To Reclaim
by Acidgreenflames
Summary: After a brutal assault, Swindle is left floundering. Much to his surprise, his team comes to his rescue in ways that he had never imagined.
1. How it all started

So over on the kinkmeme on Live Journal, this prompt caught my attention, and I've been working on it as well as Running Wild. I was going to wait for the whole story to be completed before I posted it, but now I've decided against it now. So I'm going to post it here now. Just, why not?

This was the original prompt:

_So, this story: __ . ?thread=8668794#t8668794__  
To those that don't have the stomach for rape fic, the basic outline is as follows: Astrotrain wants to frag Swindle. He offers Swindle money. Swindle refuses. Astrotrain gets mad and forces himself on Swindle, then throws the payment he offered in his face. Astrotrain then leaves, leaving Swindle crying curled up on the floor._

_I'd like to request a fic that picks up from here (yes, the author gave me a green light for it)._

_Either the other Combaticons come looking for their missing teammate, or Swindle drags himself back to their quarters. Either way, the Combaticons are HOPPING MAD that someone would treat one of their own like that. Of course they'd try to be all gruff and "We told you you'd get yourself in trouble one day." about it, but the truth is, seeing their eternally smooth and silver tongued brother in such distress is hurting them in ways they didn't think possible._

_So, first order of things: pamper Swindle until he feels better. Gently washing & polishing away all traces of the violation, offer treats and promises of revenge, emotional comfort through the gestalt bond, that sort of thing. All heading towards a nice gestalt orgy. Swindle for his part is surprised at how much his teammates actually care, but isn't about to argue._

_After they get Swindle back on his proverbial feet comes the second part: Slagging the slagger that tried to slag THEIR slagger. Clear? (How that plays out I'll leave to the author.)_

So here are the first three chapters. This one was not beta'd.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Also**, I have stared another story that is a A03 exclusive called Victor's Spoils. Basically, its seeker smut if anyone is interested.

()()()

Vortex hummed as he wandered lazily down the halls of the Combaticon base, his claw tipped digits tapping against the wall in time with the melody he made up in his head. He passed Astrotrain on his way down to Swindle's little on base storage area; the triple charger himself was humming a merry tune.

The larger purple Decepticon shot Vortex a nasty smirk and a wink as he walked by; the smaller Decepticon frowned behind his battle mask. There was something wrong with Astrotrain, there was a certain spring in his step, a certain brightness in his ruby optics, a certain sway in the way he moved.

Vortex's frown turned into a smirk as he cast a glance over his shoulder to watch the triple charger disappear down another hall. Lucky slagger just got laid! No denying it, not with how that mech moved just now.

Must be what Swindle had been pinging the team about, and Vortex felt a flair of disappointment at missing a chance to frag the triple charger. Rumor had it Astrotrain was, as the humans would say, _hung _and it made the 'copter's mouth water. A bolt of lust shot through the Combaticon as he continued his way to Swindle's storage area; it wasn't often that Swindle liked to share, but when he did it was always worth the effort.

Vortex felt his smirk crawl back into place, maybe Swindle would still be in the mood and his trip down to the other end of base wouldn't be a complete waste of time. Not that Vortex was doing anything important of course, but still he could be doing _other_ thing rather then harassing Swindle.

He could be harassing Blastoff, for example.

Picking up his pace, Vortex hurried the rest of the way to the storage bay, his interface equipment heating up at the thought of Swindle, already revved up and ready to go, already wet and moist from his time with Astrotrain; the Combaticon knew Swindle would have _had _to taken it rather then spiking Astrotrain.

Who in their right mind would waste a chance with a triple charger and not get spiked?

Lubricants were pooling behind Vortex's closed interface panel and the nose of his spike prodded at its cover, begging to be released. Want pooled in the Combaticon's belly and the thought of having Swindle bent over one of his precious boxes filled with his goods occupyed the Decepticon's mind, making his frame heat up.

Primus Vortex wanted a good hard frag, and even if he had to tease Swindle back into the mood, he was going to get it.

At least, that was what Vortex though as the double doors to Swindle's storage area slid open easily and the 'copter strut into the bay. Only to freeze in place the moment the door slid shut again.

Lust and arousal died at the feeling of _wrong_ hit the Combaticon like a brick wall. So much so that Vortex's spike depressurized and he could feel his valve dry as the scent of ozone and overcharge hit his olfactory center.

Those scents should have sent the Combaticon into a higher state of lust, should have driven Vortex into such a state of want and lust that nothing else should have been able to touch his state of mind.

Yet, that feeling of _wrong_ knocked all of the want, the lust, the deep seeded need right from Vortex's systems like a blast from Megatron's canon. The bay was quiet, too quiet for what should have been a great frag session.

Vortex shifted from one pede to another, unsure if he should leave. Maybe find Onslaught and let him deal with whatever went on here; but what would Vortex tell him? That there was something scary and wrong going on in the storage bay and could he please go check it out?

Yeah, like that would go over _really _well with the Combaticon leader.

Gathering his courage, Vortex moved easily through the storage bay, firmly ignoring his churning tanks and nervousness. Where the nerves suddenly came from, Vortex had no idea; he had spent enough time on the battle field and had never been this nervous.

Yet, the feeling of wrong just got heavier and heavier in his usually cold spark the deeper and deeper into the room he went. Vortex thought he was prepared for whatever he was about to find, he had seen a lot in the war.

Nothing could have prepared Vortex for what he found; not all the time he spent at war or as an interrogator. One simply couldn't prepare themselves to find one's gestalt mate, curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing brokenly into their servos with energon and transfluids pooling from his torn valve and ruined cover.

Vortex froze, every strut, every iota froze into place as the 'copter watched Swindle sob and hiccup softly on the floor of his own storage bay in a puddle of transfluids, creds, and his own spilt energon. Something Vortex couldn't identify flared through his spark, cutting through the numbness and shock he felt, churning his tanks.

Shifting and rotors flicking, Vortex clenched and unclenched his fists and glanced around, not wanting to watch Swindle sob yet couldn't help but watch. The Combaticon knew what had happened here, knew what Astrotrain had done to Swindle, it was all too obvious, and rage swept through Vortex.

That feeling, Vortex at least, knew and knew how to use as a weapon.

Glancing back down at the sad sight that had become Swindle, the soft, unidentified feeling tricked back into Vortex's spark. Oh, the anger was still there, only softened by...something.

Glancing around once more, half hoping that maybe Onslaught or Blastoff had come down to see what Swindle had wanted as well, only to find he was, of course, alone. Vortex focused back in on his gestalt mate, fidgeting. He wasn't good at this, he didn't know how to comfort. He only knew how to hurt.

The soft, unwanted feeling to touch Swindle, to wipe away his tears, to comfort tore at Vortex. That wasn't him, he didn't care. He didn't comfort. Yet the 'copter couldn't stop himself from crouching down next to the ground pounder and press a gentle servo to his tan shoulder plate.

Swindle cried out from the touch, jerking away from his gestalt mate to press himself flat against one of his crates; his thigh snapped together, hiding his exposed valve and his arms wrapped around his knees in a death grip.

Purple optics widened in fear and hurt as more tears made trails down his dark face plates, "T-T-Tex?" the jeep squeaked out between hiccupping sobs.

Vortex wanted to pull the other into a tight hug, tell him everything was going to be okay, crack open the gestalt bond they never used and let Swindle know that everything was going to be fine. That he would be taken care of.

Instead Vortex sighed, looking away. Shaking his helm, ignoring the feelings he shouldn't have, Vortex wrapped a servo around Swindle's upper arm, and drag the jeep to his pedes as gently as he could, "Come on Swin, let's get you back to your quarters."

The jeep watched Vortex with wide violet optics that flickered to white in his distress, and it enraged Vortex all the more. This was their base, their safe place. Astrotrain had no slagging right hurting _any of them_ in their own damned base!

The snarl that slipped from Vortex's vociliser was unintentional, and it made Swindle flinch further away from the 'copter, pulling his armour and EM field tight to his frame. Taping down on his rage, Vortex dragged Swindle from the bay, not even bothering to pick up the discarded creds on the floor.

The 'copter tried to ignore how Swindle pulled away from him, how he flinched at his touch when he had been craving it days before.

It made Vortex angry. It made him want to rage, to kill, to get revenge.

It made Vortex want to peel back the blocks on the gestalt bond and let Swindle know that everything was going to be okay.

()()()


	2. Shower

Thank you to my fabulous beta, DarknessRising10. Thanks lady!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

()()()

By the time Vortex got Swindle back to his quarters the jeep had stopped his gentle sobbing and was glaring at his pedes, silently hoping that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He didn't want his team to know what had happened and now fragging _Vortex_ knew.

The jeep had hoped that the 'copter would just leave him alone to wallow his self-pity, humiliation and pain. Instead, he would probably mock Swindle for what happened and tell the others. That'd go over really well with Onslaught; he could practically see his commander's hidden face scrunched in annoyance while he rolled his optics.

Vortex opened the door to Swindle's quarters and gently led the jeep inside and right to his berth; drawing Swindle close, their EM fields brushed and the ground pounder could feel Vortex's worry and anger lashing out against him.

Frowning, Swindle allowed himself to be sat down. He found Vortex's servos were unusually gentle as he reeled in the energy field that was so close to his frame. For a moment, their optics caught one another's; Swindle's dull purple optics locked on with Vortex's red visor and again the 'copter wanted to comfort the ground pounder. Wanted to make that scared and frightened look, along with the tears that welled, go away. Vortex wanted to wash away his gestalt mate's pain, only to feel his frustration well within him when he had no clue how to go about doing so.

Instead Vortex looked away and took a step back, trying to get away from the soft feeling that just wouldn't go away. Swindle's optics dropped to his knees which he pressed tighter together as he squirmed.

"I'm…" Vortex started. "I'm going to comm. Onslaught."

The Combaticon commander would know what to do, Vortex was sure. Onslaught always knew what to do.

Swindle's helm shot up in panic. "No Vortex! No! The others can't know."

Canting his helm in confusion, Vortex sighed. "Onslaught at least needs to know. We're in his command so he's responsible for us."

"But!"

"I'm comming him." The 'copter snapped. His outward anger hiding how scared _he_ was at how dull and empty the jeep's optics were. Swindle shouldn't look as small as he did, Swindle should be larger than life and looking for his next deal.

The softness came back and it caused Vortex to sigh. "Look, it'll just be Onslaught okay? He, at the very least, needs to know."

Swindle's optics watered against his will and he looked back down. "Fine." He mumbled, his servos wringing.

Nodding, Vortex pinged his commander.

:What do you want?: Onslaught's rough voice came over the comm. full of irritation. :I'm busy here Vortex.:

:Onslaught, we have a situation. Can you come to Swindle's quarters?:

:What? No! I'm busy, deal with whatever is going on.: Came the order, and before Onslaught could close the comm. line, Vortex did the only thing he knew would make the commander come.

:Please!: _I don't know how to deal with this!_ Were the unspoken words Vortex couldn't bring himself to say; someone needed to help Swindle, someone who knew how to deal with trauma and emotions in ways that Vortex couldn't.

On the other side of the line, Onslaught paused, confused. :Did…did you just say please?:

Vortex fidgeted, glancing at Swindle as he stared blankly at his knees. :Just. Get down here.:

There was a pause on the other side of the comm. before Onslaught sighed. :I'll be there in a klik.:

Vortex nodded to himself, despite his commander not being able to see him. "Ons is coming." He tried, hoping the news would perk Swindle's interest. "He'll know how to fix this."

He had to, since Vortex had no idea where to even begin.

The minutes seemed to drag on while waiting for the commander to show up and during the whole time, Swindle didn't move once. He didn't try to talk to Vortex, didn't worry about his unpacked product in storage, didn't even look up from his knees and the 'copter didn't like it.

The silence beat in at Vortex from all sides. He wanted to say something to the other mech and the want to open the gestalt bond rose within; he almost did it too, came so close when a ping from Swindle's door caused both Decepticons to jump.

Closing the distance to the door, Vortex cast one last glance over his shoulders, his rotors trembling as he watched Swindle curl further into his ball.

Onslaught would fix this, Vortex knew his commander could.

The door slid open at Vortex's command and the 'copter cursed when Brawl and Blast Off stood behind Onslaught; Blast off looking bored while Brawl looked worried.

"I didn't say bring these two!" The 'copter snapped as his defensiveness welled. Vortex didn't know why he wanted to protect Swindle, but he did and he could do it this way; Vortex was sure Swindle didn't want the others to see him like this.

Onslaught sighed, "They were with me when you commed me. Now what do you want?"

"I need to talk to you." Vortex snarled, optics narrowing on Brawl and Blast Off.

The other two glared back, Brawl actually snarling at the 'copter.

"I don't have time for this Vortex. We have actual work to do." The Combaticon leader pushed past his subordinate, Brawl and Blast Off behind him. "What's so slagging...Sigma!"

Onslaught froze the moment he came into the room, the other two flanking him. The shuttle former's wings twitched and Brawl gasped as they looked at Swindle for the first time; his dented plating, the dried fluid, the ripped cover, the paint transfer.

"We had an incident." Vortex muttered from behind, crossing his arms over his chest while he waited for the shock to wear off the other three.

Swindle couldn't bring himself to look up at his team mates while humiliation burned through him. He couldn't bear to look up and face the others; how pathetic he must seem to them but he just wasn't ready for it; he was still far too raw for it.

Onslaught suddenly snarled and spun to face Vortex. He wrapped a massive servo around the interrogators throat and threw him bodily against the wall. The Decepticon's feet dangled off the floor while he kicked weakly against his commander's side.

"What did you do!?" Onslaught snarled, his back cannons heating up as the need to protect Swindle rose. The gestalt bond demanded that he do something, anything.

Swindle jumped when he heard Vortex being slammed into the wall and his team mate's raspy "It wasn't me!" fell on deaf audials as Onslaught squeezed.

"It wasn't him!" Swindle jumped from the berth, ignoring how he hurt in an attempt to get his commander to stop, exposing just how badly damaged he really was, "It…It wasn't Vortex. "

Tears welled again in Swindle's optics as the jeep look down and rubbed nervously at his arms. He hated when his dumb team fought at the best of times, he couldn't handle them fighting now. "Just put him down Onslaught."

Warmth spread from Onslaught's spark and worry for his team mate ate at him. He couldn't deny Swindle his wish, not when Swindle's purple optics flickered in distress and the light reflected off his tears.

Dropping the interrogator, the Combaticon commander turned back to Swindle. "What happened?" He asked roughly, hiding the worry as the jeep shrunk from him.

"N-nothing. I'm okay."

From behind, Vortex snarled, his anger causing his armor to puff up like an angry cat's. "Nothing! Astrotrain raped you! That's what happened!"

Swindle's optics widened then dropped again as he hugged himself while shame heated his frame, making Vortex feel guilty. He wasn't angry at Swindle per say, he was angry at the situation and furious at Astrotrain, but Vortex didn't know how else to show his frustrations.

"Is this true Swindle?" Onslaught snapped. His servos shook as rage swept through him.

The jeep nodded mutely, still not bringing his optics up. He hurt; he was embarrassed and ashamed and wished his team would go away so that we could just wallow in peace.

Instead, Blast Off sighed, ignoring his own discomfort. "I am not surprised something like this happened Swindle. You are always putting yourself in dangerous situations with no back up."

The cold words made Swindle flinch and back away from his team a step. Guilt swamped the shuttle and he sighed as though to apologise, but Vortex took Blast Off's words with anger. "It happened in our base you slagger! This is _our _safe place!"

Blast Off snarled back at Vortex; the shuttle was torn. He wanted to do what Onslaught should have done and put the 'copter through the wall, then move to Swindle to hold him.

Vortex snarled back, his rotors flicking in aggravation, his own gestalt programming demanding he protect Swindle, clashing with Blast Off's.

"Enough!" Onslaught snapped, bringing an end to the brewing fight. The Combaticon leader shook his helm at his team mates in exasperation. He really didn't need their stupidity right now, not when Swindle looked as though he wanted to collapse, cry and purge his tanks all at the same time.

Taking a deep intake of air, Onslaught moved slowly to Swindle, coming to stop just in front of the con-mech. The jeep actually filched and took a step back from the close proximity of the other, his optics avoiding his commander's gaze at all costs and his EM field pulling in tight.

"Swindle," Onslaught's voice dropped an octave and softened in ways the others didn't think possible while he held out his servo. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

Blast Off's jaw dropped, Brawl-who had been in a state of shocked silence, shifted uncomfortably and Vortex's rotors flicked; Onslaught wasn't soft like that. He didn't care like that, shouldn't make the others want to break down the blocks in the bond.

Swindle's optics flared in surprise as he looked up at Onslaught with a soft expression on his dark face. Still, the smaller Combaticon didn't take his leaders servo and wrung his own in front of his exposed valve.

Onslaught sighed and carefully, slowly as not to spook the other, removed his visor and face plate. Tucking them into subspace, Onslaught tried again. "Don't make me carry you."

His words were sarcastic but his tone was soft and it unnerved Swindle all the more. He didn't know what to do with his team being kind to him, didn't know what to do with Onslaught baring his handsome face; it all seemed wrong. His commander should be the cold, untouchable one, not the one offering comfort.

"Why are you being nice to me?" the jeep's voice cracked from his sore throat, caused by the sobs.

Onslaught 's brow quirked and a frown fluttered over his face. "Just come with me Swindle and we'll get you cleaned up." When the Jeep hesitated, the commander sighed. "You'll be safe with me."

Swindle blinked back at his commander, not sure if he could trust what the other said; but this was Onslaught, his commander and Onslaught had never lied to him. It was that fact alone that made Swindle slowly reach out and take Onslaught's offered servo.

Face still neutral, Onslaught curled his digits around the smaller servo in a gentle hold, brushing his thumb over the other mech's knuckles. Drawing Swindle closer so that his field could wash over the smaller Decepticon, the commander turned and left the room.

He didn't pull at Swindle, something that the con-mech was grateful for as he was unsure if he would have been able to handle that, instead, the gestalt leader gently led the other to the wash racks.

None of the other Combaticons said a thing as Onslaught walked Swindle through their tight knot; the jeep's purple optics firm on his pedes as he let himself be led. Silently, as though they were swallowing their own fears, Brawl, Blast Off and even Vortex fell in line behind the jeep, walking in a tight group.

All of them were drawn to their injured team mate, terrified that something would happen to him if they were not watching him. Where the soft feelings came from, none of them really knew. They had never had them before...

Only that was untrue, Brawl mused to himself as Onslaught entered the wash racks, gently leading an injured Swindle. The last time Vortex almost died on the operating table, the whole team, Swindle included, has stayed up the entire night and following day, just to make sure he pulled through.

They said it was because they wanted to make sure they didn't lose a component of Bruticus, but really it was because they were afraid of losing Vortex. They were all they had on this mud ball; if they didn't have each other, they'd have nothing.

They were there for each other, in their own ways and this was no different. Swindle was hurt, badly, and the team would take care of him.

How would they do that? Brawl squirmed at the question he only kind of knew how to answer as he walked into the wash rack right behind Swindle, Blast Off still behind him. Vortex paused at the door, hesitating, wondering if he too should go in, would be welcomed in.

With a shutter, the 'copter followed his team; he hovered by the door ready to run should his presence not be tolerated or safe guard it in the event of an attack. Vortex snorted to himself, who'd have thought that _he'd_ have a protective streak?

The sound of the tap running drew Vortex's attention back to the scene before him as scalding hot cleanser poured from the shower head.

Onslaught canted him helm down at Swindle. "Come on." His red optics flicked to the dried fluids that now crusted on his thighs. "Let's get that off."

Swindle dared to look up, surprised by his commander's soft optics that held none of the judgment that the jeep had been waiting for. Onslaught squeezed his subordinate's servo before stepping into the hot spray.

Swindle followed without a fight, the sudden idea to just get _clean_ sounding so much more appealing. He could still feel Astrotrain's servos on him, could feel him _in_ him and he suddenly felt so, so dirty. Swindle didn't want to feel like this and his vents hitched at the thought; Onslaught drew the smaller Combaticon to his chest at the noise and held him for a moment.

One thick arm wrapped around Swindle's shoulders while the other went around his waist, pulling him closer, tighter to his larger frame. Onslaught felt different to Astrotrain; he was nearly as tall but far bulkier, heavier, wider.

Swindle fought back tears as he stood stock still under the spray of cleanser, wrapped in his commander's arms, safe from whoever would dare come after him. Onslaught even smelt different; gun oil, high quality gear oil and pine. His EM field was far different too, soft and fuzzy against Swindle's and he latched on to it.

No one said anything as Swindle sobbed in his commanders arms under the shower head, but no one looked away either, burning the scene in their processors. There was only one thing on the Combaticons minds; Astrotrain would pay for this, vastly, and in the worse way possible.

For now, Onslaught just wanted to get his team mate back in his right state of mind. Swindle, just like the others, was his responsibility, his to care for. That had nothing to do with the gestalt bond; that was the military training that had been beaten into him but the softness behind it, that came from time spent looking out for each other.

Once you started looking out for mechs, it was hard to not care.

Swindle's gentle cries faded out but the trembling stayed as Onslaught pulled away. The jeep's helm dropped back to his pedes as his commander pulled a soft rag and the pine scented soap from a shelf. Squirting a healthy dose of the soap onto the rag, Onslaught set to work at cleaning Swindle's damaged armor.

The Combaticon started with the smaller Decepticon's servos, lavishing attention on each and every digit, softly washing his way up to the black palm, the back of his servo and up the tan forearm. Pleasant little shocks ran up Swindle's arm as his commander worked the soap gently over his armor.

For the first time since the incident, Swindle felt himself relax; the hot cleanser raining down on his tired frame as Onslaught carefully worked his way up to his shoulder and the feeling that he was safe, so long as his commander was with him, it was just too much for Swindle. His purple optics dimmed in his exhaustion, the day's events catching up, playing havoc on his stressed and worn out systems.

Blast Off, cold and aloof Blast Off sighed softly at the sight of his team mate's exhaustion and he had had enough. Swindle needed to rest as much as he needed comfort; pulling his own soft rag from subspace, Blast Off stepped into the spray.

Without saying a word to each other, Onslaught handed the bottle of soap to the shuttle, who set to work on Swindle's other arm, moving at the same, slow gentle pace, washing away the evidence of Swindle's assault.

The jeep sighed as he off lined his optics, enjoying the gentle, soft touches from his gestalt mates; even Blast Off, another shuttle, felt different to Astrotrain. It made the touching so much more bearable, wanted even. These were his team mates, they'd never hurt him like that.

Vortex averted his gaze from his post at the door, feeling as though he should not be there. He didn't do this soft, touchy feeling thing and he didn't know how to deal with it. He wanted to leave, yet needed to stay at the same time. He couldn't, wouldn't leave Swindle unguarded again. Rotor flicking, the helicopter stayed where he was.

Onslaught and Blast Off managed to wash Swindle's arms and shoulders without issue. They almost managed to finish his whole frame without the jeep breaking down again. They had come so close, then Blast Off's chamois brushed the jeeps thigh and all Swindle's self-control broke. The tan mech suddenly flinched away with a cry, fat tears suddenly welling in the dull purple optics because of the touch.

Blast Off and Onslaught froze from their crouched positions, red optics and purple visor snapping up as their servos drew away slowly.

"Swindle, it's okay." The Combaticon leader said softly, moving as though to stand.

Swindle panicked, fear spiking through him as he backed away from his gestalt mates who suddenly seemed so much bigger than him.

Blast Off frowned, more out of worry than irritation, while Onslaught sighed and drew away. "Swindle, we have to get those stains off."

The jeep's helm thrashed no as he took another step back, his freshly cleaned arms wrapping around his clean waist. "I...I can't."

His engine whined in distress and Swindle suddenly felt so, so trapped. Boxed in, and his keens mirrored his engine's high revving. The two larger Decepticon's didn't move from their spots on the floor as they watch Swindle breakdown, tears spilling down his dark cheeks while his frame trembled.

Onslaught sighed as his shoulders drooped. He shouldn't be so surprised, the rape had only just happened but they were doing so well. Blast Off glanced at his commander, his violet optics flashing in worry behind his dark purple visor. Vortex tensed, but didn't move from his post or look at what was happening behind him.

Brawl watched his team mate's breakdown and felt his own spark shutter; Swindle was hurting and it ate at Brawl as much as it did the rest of his team. The tank only had one memory of his creators; he had been hurt, so mildly compared to what happened during the war, but hurt none the less. He remembered his sparker had hugged him, held him while he cried and sobbed. He remembered feeling safe in his creators arms, remembered how nothing would hurt him in that embrace.

It was one of Brawl's fondest memories.

Gnawing on his lip, worried, the tank stepped into the shower, easing around Blast Off to stand in front of Swindle. If being held worked on a sparkling, maybe it would work on his team mate now.

"Hey Swin," Brawl called softly, hoping his soft tone would sooth the mech. "Come here, we'll get through this together." He opened his arms, offering a safe place to hide and comfort while the others finished cleaning.

Swindle hyperventilated while he hugged himself, his frame shaking so hard that his armour rattled against his frame. "I...I can't. Don't want to be touched."

Brawl fidgeted, his arms still open in offering.

"Do you want to clean yourself?" Blast Off rumbled from beside Onslaught, staying as still as he could.

Vortex was firm and unmoving at the door, listening and unsure of what to do. He knew he would not be welcomed in the scene behind him and wouldn't know what to do even if he had been.

Swindle's optics flicked to the unmoving 'copter, back to Blast Off and settling on Brawl. Shaking his helm no, the jeep edged to his team mate's open arms, needing, more than wanting the comfort his team mate offered.

Brawl didn't dare move as Swindle approached him, staying still like he was trying to coax a wild animal to his side. Moving slowly, afraid that their kindness and patience was running low, Swindle edged his way into Brawl's arms, his frame stiff and ready to run.

The tank surprised him as he wrapped his arms around his team mate and gently held him under the spray of the cleanser. Swindle buried his face into Brawl's throat, hiding his face in the cables as tears prickled at his optics once more. Brawl was the same size as Swindle and the con-mech had the same feeling of comfort, of safety, with him as he did his commander.

Onslaught moved first, slowly inching closer to the smaller Decepticon. "We're going to finish." The commander said roughly, but didn't touch his subordinate until he nodded against Brawl's throat. As Blast Off and Onslaught finished cleaning the tan thighs, Swindle gathered his courage to ask the question that begged to be asked.

"Why are you being so nice?" Swindle fought the hitching of his intakes and failed.

Blast Off ignored the question as he continued to clean, moving slowly up Swindle's thigh with mechanical precision. Onslaught paused for only a moment before he too ignored the question, his gentle servo carefully scrubbing the dried fluids away.

Brawl shrugged, unsure himself of how to answer the question that none of them knew how to answer, instead he just held the jeep while he shook.


	3. Pry it open

Again, thank you to DarknessRising10, who did all the fabulous beta work on this chapter! Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing.

()()()

Swindle finally, _finally_, was resting in deep recharge. The jeep was curled on his side, his back to the dark wall of his quarters with his arms stretched out across the mesh of his berth. His purple optics were dark in recharge but his face was still set in a deep, unhappy, frown. His digits twitched and clawed at an invisible invader and it seemed the jeep couldn't even escape his tormenter in rest. It was far from a peaceful recharge but at least Swindle was resting and for Onslaught, it was enough for the time being.

The Combaticon leader's battle mask and visor were firmly back in place as he watched Swindle recharge, his massive arms crossed over his wide chest, deep in thought at what was to be their next move. Astrotrain would pay for this, pay dearly in fact if Onslaught had anything to do with it and if he could point Vortex in the right direction.

The commander gave his subordinate a sideways glance. Vortex had followed them back to Swindle's quarters, keeping his distance as Brawl and Blast Off lead the jeep back to his room. Although the 'copter's helm was now turned away from their resting gestalt mate, Onslaught could see Vortex's red optics through the glass of his visor and they were pinned on Swindle.

Onslaught snorted, drawing Blast Off's and Brawl's attention as he watched Vortex. The heli former was anything but predictable, however he was easy to read if one knew the signs. His rotors were too rigid, too still at his back to be relaxed. His clawed digits curled into tight fists before loosening again and Onslaught knew that in Vortex's mind, he was strangling Astrotrain.

Smirking, Onslaught knew that pointing Vortex in the right direction would be easy. He already had the right motivation, now they just had to wait for the right time to strike. As much as none of them wanted to admit it, they cared about each other.

Those first few days trapped within the new, unwanted gestalt bond, while they struggled to learn how to close each other off, had been awkward and difficult; there had been slips in those early days, glimpses into each other's thoughts, minds, and psyche. What should have brought them together as a tighter, stronger more deadly unit just drove them apart with embarrassment.

They hated each other at first and their use on the battle field suffered because of it, but over time, things started to happen. Things beyond their control that forced them to work together, forced them to actually, Primus forbid, grow to be concerned about each other.

Concern grew into care yet the gestalt bonds stayed closed, sealed off from each other. They were not created as a gestalt but they became one later in life, against their will and the desire to open the bond was dulled by the need to be just themselves.

Despite all that, the small thread of care slowly twined into their sparks, binding them together. So pointing Vortex in the right direction, to exact revenge for what was done to Swindle, would be easy. An attack on one was an attack on all, as far as Onslaught was concerned.

"Brawl." The tank's helm snapped to face his commander. "Stay with Swindle. You two come with me."

Onslaught's voice was cold and hard, nothing like the soft, gentle tones that he had used with a distressed Swindle; it was the tone he used when he was going to order something that would get them all in trouble at some point.

Blast Off nodded and stiffly left the room, his wings high on his back and twitching. He was just as angry as the rest of them, and had just as much trouble expressing his frustrations as the rest of them.

Vortex hesitated by the portal, his rotors twitching as he watched Swindle jerk in his recharge. His clawed digits stilled their frantic clenching just before he followed the shuttle out of the room in silence.

Onslaught turned to follow his subordinates, when Brawl's worried cry to stop halted the larger Decepticon.

Turning to face Brawl, Onslaught sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "What now?"

Confusion and worry nearly oozed from the smaller Combaticon's EM field but he hid it well with anger in his tone. "What am I suppose to do?"

Onslaught ignored his subordinates scathing tone, knowing on a normal day not even Brawl would be so dumb to use that tone with his commander. He was scared at the moment, nothing like this had ever happened to one of them and he reacted the only way he knew how, with anger.

"Tend to Swindle until we get back." Came the calm order. "Make sure he continues to rest and if he wakes, make sure he eats."

With that, Onslaught left, ignoring Brawl's desperate cry to wait, the door cycling closed behind him. The commander knew that if Swindle woke from a bad purge, and most likely would, a smaller ground frame that was similar to his own would calm Swindle far quicker than a larger one. By default it left Brawl to care for Swindle.

Another exhausted sigh left the commander as he motioned for Blast Off and Vortex to follow as he headed for his office; Brawl may not have been the best choice as a care taker. He was angry and volatile at the best of times and now all of them were treading untested waters, waters that Onslaught himself was unsure how to navigate and had no idea how his team would react.

Blast Off and Vortex followed Onslaught in silence, neither giving any indication that they wanted to say something, or even knowing what to say, and the silence gave the commander a moment to just actually think.

They had never encountered a situation like this; Onslaught of course had seen and found victims of rape before, but they were usually _someone else_. Someone he didn't care about, someone unimportant to him, even if they were other Decepticons. He wasn't some sappy Autobot where he was concerned with every 'Con that passed by him.

This, however, wasn't just any 'Con. This was Swindle, one of _his_ men, _his _gestalt and it was high time that damned triple changer remembered that.

Onslaught roughly palmed open his office door, gesturing to the others to sit as he calmly walked to the corner of his office to a storage locker. Pulling three cubes of high grade from the locker, the commander walked smoothly back to his desk. Easing into the high backed chair behind the desk, Onslaught eased a cube to each Vortex and Blast Off. The shuttle nearly grabbed his from his commander, taking a long drink. Vortex stared blankly at his own cube, claws clinking against the glass, optics unfocused in thought.

Throwing back his helm, Onslaught nearly drank his entire cube in one hard, rough swallow. He carefully set his cube back down and tented his digits over it. "We need to handle this carefully."

Blast Off fingered the edge of his cube as he dropped his helm heavily into his servo. "How?" he asked coldly.

Vortex had still yet to come out of his dazed state, staring blankly at his cube, body completely still, with the exception to his constantly moving digits; Onslaught knew that sign of stillness. The 'copter was planning something, something very bad and he was just working it out in his own sick little processor of his. Whatever Vortex had in store for Astrotrain, it would not be good but Onslaught couldn't bring himself to care. Couldn't bring himself to dampen or stop the 'copter's plan, not after what Astrotrain did to Swindle.

"We can't kill him." Onslaught said plainly, and that drew Vortex's optics up for the first time.

"Why not?" he snarled, claws suddenly digging in to the steel of the table.

"Because Astrotrain is still useful to Megatron and this war."

"And after?" came the barley checked rage from the 'copter.

A twisted smirk crossed the commander's face behind his mask. "After? We make sure he doesn't get to live long enough to experience peace."

Blast Off nodded, optics still on his cube of energon. "And in the mean time? We can't allow the others to think we will stand for this." The shuttle's optics flickered up to meet his commanders. "Astrotrain needs to pay."

"And he will." Onslaught said far too calmly, looking at Blast Off, knowing that Vortex watched his every move. "But we need to plan this perfectly. We have to wait." Vortex snarled at that, but said nothing, allowing Onslaught to continue. "Wait for just the right time. Wait for Astrotrain to think we've given up. Make him feel _safe_ again."

It would make the revenge all the sweeter; take from Astrotrain what the triple changer took from Swindle. His safe place.

Onslaught turned his attention to the far too quiet 'copter. "You have any ideas of how to go about doing that?"

The interrogator finally moved, drawing back his face plate as he picked up his cube of energon. A twisted, cold smile cut across Vortex's face as he lifted the cube to his lips. "Oh. I have some ideas."

The words were like a warm blanket to some organic creature on a cold night to the other Combaticon's; assurance that Astrotrain would indeed pay.

()()()

Brawl wrung his dark servos as he stood in the middle of Swindle's quarters. The tank glanced at his resting gestalt mate, not sure what to do with himself and quickly looked away again.

Fidgeting, Brawl did the only thing he could to take his buzzing processor from the disturbing events and started going through Swindle's things; it was better than watching the other 'Con twitch in his recharge. Much to the tanks dismay, most of Swindle's things were locked away in crates and lockers, leaving little to go through. No need to upset the jeep any more than he already was by breaking into them.

There was an old pix crystal, with two mechs smiling up at him from the projection inside, tucked at the back of the shelf. It caught Brawl's attention for a moment as he wondered who they were; creators maybe, or siblings? It was then Brawl seemed to realise that he really did not know anything about his gestalt mates or their past.

For all Brawl knew, these two smiling mechs, painted in bright yellows and pitch blacks, were bond mates. They never spoke about the time before the detention center, never asked each other about it either.

Frowning, the tank picked up the crystal pix to study it more closely, they both kind of looked like Swindle; purple optics of the same color pallet, if only brighter.

A soft noise, almost like a whimper, drew Brawl's attention away from the pix crystal and back to the living mech on the berth. Swindle had curled further into himself as the memory purge ripped through his processor, causing the con-mech to draw his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them.

Frowning behind his battle mask, Brawl placed the crystal back on its shelf, not bothering trying to hide the fact he had been looking at it by placing it exactly where he took it from, he just dropped it back on the shelf.

Groaning, Swindle's leg jerked and kicked as though he were trying to run from the invisible attacker and it made Brawl so, so nervous. The tank rubbed at a dark grey arm as worry churned his tanks and part of him just pleaded with the god he had never believed in, to let Swindle stay in recharge. He didn't know what he would do when the other woke, had no idea what to say.

Yet, he didn't want Swindle to suffer... did he? Brawl had no idea, no clue as to what to do.

Twitching and whimpering, Swindle began writhing on his berth, soft droplets of liquid forming at the corners of his off lined optics and the words 'nononononono!' were whispered from parted lips. The jeep's EM field flexed and reached erratically before snapping close to the distressed Decepticon's frame, only to start the process a new. Reaching out, Brawl thought to himself nervously, for something to cling to, something that would be defined as safe as Swindle was caught in the nightmare of a bad purge.

Sighing softly, afraid the noise would wake the other; Brawl fidgeted and slowly, quietly, approached Swindle. The tank shuttered as the other's EM flared against his own, hard and ragged, tingles of fear bleeding through into his own; tamping on his own set of nerves, Brawl pushed his EM field forward, meshing, mixing with Swindle's, giving a much needed boost of something _different_.

It wasn't the calm that Swindle needed, Brawl knew this, but at least it was something other than the strut chilling, far too fresh fear the other seemed to be saturated in. Brawl fought to keep his composure, fought to keep his own fear of the unknown out of his EM field for Swindle's sake.

Gathering his courage, Brawl perched on the corner of Swindle's berth, pressing his servos into his lap in an effort to not touch his gestalt mate, despite the want to do just that. Instead, the tank focused all his energy into pushing his EM field into Swindle's, hoping it would calm.

The entrepreneur groaned and his own field flared into Brawl's, mixing, allowing the tank to feel the desolation from the jeep. Rage suddenly tinged Brawl's EM, and he swore that Astrotrain will pay for this.

Swindle moaned again and tears slipped down his dark cheeks as he relived the assault and Brawl fought the urge to touch, to wipe away the pain. It would be unwelcome, would scare him, Brawl thought.

Twitching again, Swindle's purple optics snapped on line as he gasped, the color fading out to white in his distress. The jeep jerked upright, coming to rest on his elbows as his intakes heaved and his frame trembled.

Tentatively, Brawl reached out to his team mate to lay a servo on the tan shoulder, the plate rattled against the protoform beneath. "Swin, you okay?"

As the light touch pressed against Swindle's shoulder, the jeep flinched and jumped, scuttling away from his team mate, pressing his back against the wall. Returning to their natural colour, bright purple optics locked on Brawl's bright orange visor, while horror and shame flooded the purple orbs as Swindle realised that he had been caught in the midst of a bad purge, and crying of all things.

As if his day could not get any worse.

Dipping his helm in humiliation, Swindle quickly averted his optics, scrubbing at his face with the back of his servo. "Why are you here Brawl?"

Despite the jeep's snappy tone, his EM field continued to mix with Brawl's, reaching out, entwining with his and filling him with the same horror, fear and hurt as before. "Uhh...Onslaught told me to take care of you?" the tank mumbled. He thought he should look away, avert his gaze and give his team mate some privacy, but Brawl just couldn't bring himself to do so.

Swindle's face darkened as he narrowed his optics, drawing his knees to his chest. "Then I'm fine. You can leave now." The jeep snapped, hoping his team mate would do just that so he could just break down in peace.

It seemed the Primus wasn't smiling down on him once again. Brawl frowned behind his mask, moving further onto Swindle's berth, pressing his back against the wall he settled next to the jeep. Ignoring the other's request, Brawl pulled a cube of energon from subspace. "You should eat." He mumbled, offering the cube.

Uninterested, Swindle stared at the cube before moving glossy optics up to Brawl's hidden face. The idea of eating made the jeep's tanks churn. "Not hungry." He grumbled, dropping his optics back down, shame filling his spark, fighting the fear and hurt for space there.

The offered cube, dropped away, coming to rest on a dark knee and Brawl fingered the top of the cube, "You…you sure?"

Swindle nodded, clamping his thighs together, protecting his still damaged and exposed valve. "I'm fine Brawl." He mumbled. "I just want to be left alone."

The tank sighed, gently taking Swindle's servo, ignoring the flinch, and forced the cube into it. "You're not fine Swin." The tank withdrew from Swindle's personal space as quickly as he entered it, settling his servos back into his lap. "And we don't know how to fix you." The tank muttered, finally averting his optics.

Swindle clung to the cube Brawl had forced into his servo, he didn't dare move it besides the constant shaking. "Neither do I." He muttered back.

Brawl glanced up at his team mate from under the rim of his helm. Shifting, the tank felt as though he should do something, offer comfort where he could, and was frustrated when he couldn't think of an easy way to do so.

Huffing in irritation, Brawl looked away; it made him angry to not be able to help. They were a gestalt damn it! This should be easy for them.

Brawl blinked as a seed of an idea took root. They never used the gestalt bonds, all sides from all parties were blocked off firmly but why couldn't' they use them? Why couldn't Brawl reach out to Swindle in a way that only a formed gestalt could, reach just as deep as any bond? Who had, in the beginning, said no?

It was such a simple idea, one that had Brawl relaxing against the wall behind him. He never liked complicated plans, they made his processor swim and he always screwed it up when they became too complex. This, this should be easy.

As Swindle clutched his cube, his gaze distant as his processor played the scene in his own storage area again and again, the phantom pains of the assault bombarded his body, Brawl concentrated on the closed bonds. Feeling them out, searching for Swindle.

EM field's meshed, and Brawl _tried_ to push more calm through but found it hard to concentrate on both the bond and the field.

Prodding along the four other sparks that were bound to him, Brawl found the one that was at its weakest; it felt faint and scared if Brawl concentrated on it and he just knew that had to be the jeep. Licking his lips, Brawl peeled back the blocks on the gestalt bond, pulling them back like scrubbing gunk out of joints.

Shifting uncomfortably, Brawl sent a pulse of _comfort/comfort/comfort/it's okay/comfort. _It was easier to send a pulse rather than to say those things out loud. 

The pulse traveled along the bonds, slamming hard against Swindle's blocks, causing the jeep to jerk and gasp; his dark face shot up to meet Brawl's. The tank knew that in his current state, he could have forced his way past Swindle's defences but that would make him just as bad Astrotrain. It would have been just as a bad assault on the already damaged mech.

Swindle gave his team mate a shrewd look, curling further into himself, unsure of his gestalt mates intent. "What…what are you doing?" the jeep asked, his vents hitching.

Brawl shrugged, sending the same pulse of _comfort/it's okay/comfort _along the bonds. "Might help." The tank muttered while avoiding the jeep's worried optics.

In the back of his processor, Swindle could still see Astrotrain's face, could still feel his servos on his body, could still feel the very real fear that ripped through him; but the constant prodding and gentle poking from Brawl's side of the bond, piqued the jeep's curiosity. After all, he couldn't feel any worse than he already did.

Slowly, carefully, Swindle eased the blocks of the bond back, opening it no more than Brawl himself had and was suddenly swamped with the tanks worried _comfort/comfort/it's okay_ that was mingled with _vengeance/ there will be blood/vengeance. _

Swindle shuttered, allowing himself to acclimatise to the new presence in his mind and spark, his own _hurt/fear/pain/fear/fear/fear/fear/hurt _barrelled back down the bond to Brawl. The jeep shied away from his gestalt mate; ready to close the bond back up again at the soft, pathetic feelings filled him.

But when _comfort/okay/vengeance/blood/kill/retribution/safe now _echoed back from Brawl, Swindle hesitated, glancing up at his team mate. Brawl looked just as confused as he did, unsure of the bond, but he didn't shy away like Swindle wanted to.

The feeling of _scared_ trilled down the bond to Brawl, causing the tank to fidget and Swindle to look away. They really were not any good at this but still, Brawl sent _protect/kill/safe _back to the other.

They both shifted uncomfortably, the energon cube still held loosely in the jeep's servo as the feelings evened out to _hurt/scared _and _protect/comfort_.

"Is there anything I can...I don't know. Do?" Brawl asked after he gathered his dwindling courage.

Swindle's helm shook no as he sighed and settled his helm against his knees. He was exhausted, felt weak and he wanted to rest but every time the jeep's optics off lined, Astrotrain's face floated in his processor.

Brawl frowned at Swindle's sudden projection of _tired/tired/fear!/fear!/fear! _

"If you want to rest, you need to calm down." Brawl muttered softly, still not able to look at Swindle in the optics, not with the bond wide open.

Swindle snorted, _duh/no kidding! _Ripped down the bond and it caused Brawl to sigh. "I was only saying."

Anger flashed across the bond and Swindle finally brought his helm up to glare at the tank through still glassy optics. "I can't just calm down Brawl! I can still feel…"

Whatever Swindle was going to say, the con-mech stopped himself mid-sentence but with the _scared/hurt/fear _that bled through the bond, even Brawl could figure out what went unsaid. It left the tank nervous and frustrated, how was _he,_ of all mechs, suppose to comfort Swindle? The bonds were still too fresh to do more than send unhindered feelings. The procession of _comfort/confused/sorry_ was proof of that.

Brawl risked a glance at Swindle, saw how the jeep curled right into himself and saw the dark grey-black paint transfer that streaked across tan hips. Just another reminder of what happened.

"You know Swin," Brawl began, his confusion as much a real thing as Swindle's hurt. "I could buff those out for you."

Surprise filtered through both Swindle and the novel bond as the jeep glanced up in surprise. "What? Why?"

Brawl shrugged, letting his servo brush against Swindle's. "Distract you, I guess. And I like it when someone else polishes my plating." Despite the fact no one had done that in a very long time, but Brawl didn't mention that. "So it might be good for you. Stop you thinking about Astro…him."

Swindle blinked up at his gestalt mate, confusion followed by acceptance flowed through the bond. "Sure. Why not, the buffer is under the berth." He muttered.

Brawl grinned behind his mask, anger forgotten, as he jumped from the berth to go digging for the buffer, _excitement/comfort/joy_ trilled through the bond and it made the jeep snort. "Such a fragging sparkling." The sneer had lost its usual bite, but was there none the less.

Despite the weakness of the scoff, Brawl sat up, buffer in servo and a flash of hurt flickered down the bond as the tank canted his helm at the other. "I just want to help." He muttered, disappointment replacing the hurt.

Swindle sighed and trying to force himself to relax, he held out an arm to his team mate. "Just get on with it."

Hurt forgotten in an instance, Brawl grinned once more from behind his mask, climbing back up onto the berth. As he took the jeep's servo, Brawl settled down beside his team mate and turned on the buffer. "You should drink that, if you don't Ons will force it down your throat like one of those fleshling younglings."

The gentle buffer rubbed against the rough plating of Swindle's servo, sending tingling pleasure shooting up his arm and _fear/scared/pleasure_ shooting back down the bond. Happy with the response, knowing he'd never get any better at the moment, Brawl went back to cheerfully buffing out the damage to the jeep's servo and arm.

Sighing, Swindle accepted the fact that he was going to have to eat eventually, despite his sick, churning tanks, and he allowed the soft pressure from the buffer to distract him. Off lining his optics, Swindle let the feelings of pleasure radiate down his arm as Brawl worked his way up to his shoulder, forcing down the sick feeling once more.

Only when the jeep was sure he wasn't going to purge the energon he was about to drink, did he lift the cube to his parted lips. He drank it all in one, hard fast gulp, feeling it burn the whole way down. Shuttering, Swindle fought the sick feeling once more, not really wanting to eat any more than he had, hardly feeling up to it.

Brawl paused in his work on his gestalt mates shoulder when he felt the other's sickness and worry, but Swindle waved him off.

"Fine." He muttered hoarsely, swallowing hard several times in order to keep the energon where it was.

Disposing of the cube, Swindle allowed himself to sit back and relax against the wall, enjoying the feeling of the buffer against his damaged plating. With surprising accuracy and gentleness, Brawl worked the buffer across Swindle's shoulders, down his other arm and back across his chest. His belly and legs followed suit, just like they had done in the showers, and by the time Brawl worked his way back to tan hips, Swindle was a strutless bundle of content.

Astrotrain's assault was momentarily forgotten under the constant gentle pressure of the buffer; very few could make it through a whole body buff and make it out with their full processor intact.

Squirming, Brawl knew the hips would be the hardest part and he did not want to freak the jeep out anymore. Voice calm but firm, the tank cleared his throat, bringing Swindle's dim optics to him. "I..ah. Need to do your hips Swin."

Fear once again flashed across the bond from Swindle and any headway Brawl had made, was gone in a flash. _Comfort/safe/team_ shot down the bond to the other. "I'll be quick." The tank said gruffly, ignoring how much it hurt him to know that Swindle feared his touch.

The jeep glanced down at his damaged hips, the paint that marked him, and sighed angrily. He refused to let Astro…_him_ win. "You'll be quick?"

Brawl almost missed the soft question and nodded yes quickly. Grumbling a little, Swindle rearranged himself so that his team mate could polish away the last of the paint transfer from Astrotrain. Brawl purposely kept his optics from the torn, injured valve and set to work on tan hips.

What should have been an extremely pleasurable buffing was tense with underlining fear. Not even the hot pleasure, that on any other day would have had the jeep worked up and all over the tank in an instant, could knock out the cold feeling of dread from Swindle's spark.

The buffer worked its way across the flat planes of Swindle hips, causing the other to shutter as the cold feeling spread and shameful tears to prickle at his optics. The jeep hated them for their existence, hated the fact he wasn't as strong as the others and he stopped them before they formed. He fought against the rising hitch in his vents as he shuttered.

The whole time Swindle fought his break down, Brawl ignored his team mate's reaction, focused solely on working out the paint and marks, making sure to constantly pulse _comfort/safe/team_ down the bond, putting all his focus into his chosen task.

The whole thing took far too long, as far as Swindle was concerned, the gentle touches felt nothing like Astrotrain's servos but continued to remind the jeep of him. What once brought pleasure now only brought terror.

Finally Brawl finished. "All done Swin."

Glancing away while Brawl put away the buffer, Swindle scrubbed at his face once again with the back of his polished servo, getting rid of the evidence of his shameful display of emotion. Coughing to clear his intakes, Swindle sent _gratitude/exhaustion_ down the newly open bond.

"You're welcome." Brawl said as he tucked the buffer back under the berth. _Safe/team mate/ protect_.

The tank settled back beside his team mate, relaxing against the wall and Swindle did the same; awkward silence hummed between them, neither knowing what to say or how to talk to each other.

"You...you should get some rest Swindle. Gonna be a long day." Brawl murmured, his optics on his servos in his lap.

The jeep nodded, the fear of returning to recharge and feeling Astrotrain's servos on his now clean, shining plating, coursing through him. He didn't want the memory to taint what Brawl had done for him. "Will you...stay?" The words were nearly ripped from the jeep's vocaliser and it hurt to admit such a weakness, that he_ needed_ more than wanted Brawl to stay.

That he needed to feel the tanks EM mixing with his own, the feel of a warm frame of a ground pounder his size against his own. Swindle needed to feel the open gestalt bond pulse safety and protection from his team mate.

Brawl canted his helm, studying Swindle from behind his battle mask and visor. Fidgeting, the tank himself not used to such soft feelings and an open gestalt bond, didn't know what the appropriate response should be. A less damaged mech would have known what to do and say.

"A…alright." Brawl muttered, moving to lie down on the soft mat on the berth. Swallowing hard, Swindle moved to do the same, awkwardly laying beside his team mate, their EM fields mixing and the bond still open.

Swindle settled and stilled as best he could against Brawl's frame, unsuccessfully fighting the flinch when the tank draped an arm across his belly.

Twitching, fighting the urge to take his arm away, Brawl muttered, "Okay?"

Trying to get his frame to stop shaking, Swindle nodded. He just wanted to rest without thinking of Astrotrain and hopefully with Brawl pressed up against him, he could do that.

Optics dimming, clinging to the fact that this was _Brawl_ and not Astrotrain touching him, Swindle tried to recharge, taking comfort in the fact that a team mate was with him. "Thanks Brawl."

Visor dimming as he began to nod into recharge, Brawl dragged Swindle closer, settling the jeep against his chest. "You're welcome Swindle."

Neither Combaticon would ever admit to the fact that they were cuddling, but both would not have chosen to be anywhere else at the moment.


	4. Patch Job

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapters, DarkSirocco, DarknessRising10, Daoi Sidhe, Jovianokami, Autobot Firekat, DemonSurfer, Foxyperv and SunnySideofBlue.

I am not entirely happy with this chapter. I don't write Blast Off well, like at all. But this was important for the growth of the team. I still don't like this chapter. I know Blast Off is OOC, but I've given up on this chapter. I have a lot more practise writing Vortex and Onslaught from other stories, so they should be better. I hope you all enjoy it none the less.

A Thank you to DarkestRising10, who beta'd this for me

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

()()()

Swindle was warm, pleasantly so, and that's what he focused on when he slowly cycled from recharge. The bond with Brawl was still open, _content/safe/team_ pulsing down it, humming almost softly between them. The tan and black mech curled further into the warmth, feeling safe enough to return to recharge as what Astrotrain had done to him, was pushed to the furthest part of his mind.

Brawl was still deep in recharge, his arms circled loosely around the smaller ground mech he shared a berth with; the tank's masked face pressed into Swindle's throat, drool leaking out the side of his mask at his soft, even vents.

He felt he could lie here all day, relaxing for the first time since the attack and he would have without a doubt, had Onslaught's ping to the pair of them not woken the still recharging tank. Brawl jerked out of recharge, weapons humming on in readiness; Onslaught rarely called for them unscheduled, unless it was for battle.

"Wha..." the tank asked drowsily, sitting up quickly, dragging Swindle up with him.

The jeep flinched and jerked out of his team mate's hold and inched away; without the comfort of laying curled around each other, Swindle found he didn't want to be touched, it made his plating itch.

Sighing, wishing his commander would leave them for just a day, Swindle muttered. "It's just Ons." Switching to the comm. frequency, Swindle responded before his still half dazed team mate. ::Yeah?::

Swindle could hear the anti-aircraft tank sigh, no doubt annoyed by the insubordination but he choose to ignore it. ::Brawl still with you?::

::Uh...yeah.:: The jeep responded, glancing over at his gestalt mate who was rubbing at his optic with the back of his servo.

::Good.: Came the cold, hard voice of his commander. ::Get down to the entrance. You have two kliks.:: And the line cut out before Swindle could respond, hissing with static.

Sighing, Swindle was not surprised that whatever, crazy, glitched spell that Onslaught had been under the night before, was gone. Now he had his usual hard aft, nasty commander back who simply wasn't going to accept anything screwing with his plans.

As always, it was Onslaught's plans that mattered most to him. Muttering darkly, Swindle heaved a sigh. ::Yes Sir. We'll be down in a breem.::

Onslaught couldn't hear him, but Swindle didn't care at that moment; he should not have been surprised that things would return to normal now that the initial shock had worn off. Nothing was going to change, Astrotrain would get away with this, would probably do it to someone else, would gloat he got away with doing it to him.

"You okay Swin?" Brawl's rough voice broke through the jeep's depressing thoughts.

Swindle fidgeted for a moment, staring at his servos with a soft huff of a sigh. He wasn't okay, he was far from okay. Emotionally he was a wreck, cracked inside, hurting. Physically, he was damaged, his valve ached and his cover still gone. He doubted he would ever interface again after this, who'd want to touch someone like him now? How could he stand having someone touch him even if they wanted to?

No, Swindle was far from okay. He was scared of this happening again and hurting, and it was just not okay; and to make it all the more worse, nothing was going to be done about it. Nothing was going to happen to Astrotrain, he'd get to continue as though nothing happened. Carry on with his happy little life, unpunished.

He really shouldn't be so damned surprised.

"I'm fine Brawl." Swindle said quietly, not bothering to tell his team mate how he was feeling.

From behind his mask, Brawl frowned, sending _worry/concern/comfort _down the gestalt bond. "If you're sure?" The tank trailed off, slowly crawling off the berth.

"You…you don't need to keep doing that." Swindle said quietly, trying to distance himself from the bond.

Brawl stretched, his spinal struts popping. "Do what?"

"Keep the bond open." Purple optics dropped to his knees which pressed together, hiding his exposed, torn valve. "You don't have to anymore."

Brawl's helm canted in confusion as he tried to figure out what Swindle was trying to tell him. "You don't want it open anymore?"

"Well, no it's not that. You just...don't have to if you don't want to." Swindle muttered softly, unable to stop the _worry/hurt/fear _that slipped past his blocks.

Brawl stared at him for a moment, helm still canted like a dog studying something novel to its environment, trying to figure it out. "It's not that bad." The tank finally shrugged, holding Swindle's gaze. "It's kinda nice to not have to keep the blocks up all the time y'know. Takes a lot of concentration to keep them there and it's not so bad to, y'know, having them open." The tank shrugged, scratching at his shoulder. "I don't mind keeping it open, with you, if you're okay with that."

Brawl trailed off, his servos wringing in front of him, unsure if this was wanted or not, or just plain stupid. The others often told Brawl he was stupid, when he didn't grasp things as quickly as the others.

_Worry/fear/sorry _vibrated down the bond, and Swindle wondered if Brawl had any idea that he was projecting like that. Confusion filled Swindle, unsure if this was a good idea, but the jeep found himself quietly saying, "It's okay Brawl. We can...keep it open, if you'd like."

The jeep gave a small shrug, not wanting to meet this gestalt mate's optics. The sudden amount of sheer joy that suddenly filled Swindle was staggering; Brawl had always wanted nothing more than to be part of a group, part of a properly functioning unit. Not this broken thing they found themselves trapped in.

Swindle looked surprised at the tank and was sure he was grinning behind that battle mask, if the joy that was rippling down the bond said anything. A shy, small smile flicked across Swindle's lips before disappearing again.

"We should head down to the entrance, see what Onslaught wants." Swindle muttered, slowly getting off the berth, feeling awkward and unsure.

Brawl didn't seem to sense Swindle's feelings; maybe he still had the ability to hide certain things or maybe Brawl just didn't understand what those feelings where, didn't understand what they meant. "Well, we'd better get going before we annoy Onslaught."

The joy and happiness from Brawl filled Swindle and the small, shy grin flicked over the jeep's mouth once again. "Alight."

()()()

When Swindle and Brawl made their way down to the entrance of the base, Onslaught, Vortex, and Blast Off were already there, already waiting for the remaining pair to join them.

Blast Off glanced at the jeep, optics flickering over his damaged valve before returning to his commander. Vortex was leaning with one shoulder against a wall by the exit, arms crossed over his chest, hidden optics pinned on Onslaught, not acknowledging his team mate's presence.

Onslaught, his large form framed by the exit, gave Swindle the once over, his worry hidden by his mask and visor.

Swindle dropped his purple optics, ashamed that he was still left expose and open to his team; he felt like they could see right through him, could see how weak he was.

Brawl was suddenly by his team mate's side, sensing Swindle's unease along the newly open gestalt bonds. It would take some time to get used to having Brawl sense how he was feeling. The tank's large, blunt servo brushing along the jeep's without grabbing; they couldn't look weak in front of the rest of the unit.

Swindle sighed, relieved, and took a step closer to Brawl. The squat tank grinned behind his mask and almost leaned towards Swindle, wrapping his EM filed around the other, pushing the feelings of _safety_ towards him.

The others didn't seem to notice, or seem to care, as Onslaught crossed his massive arms, addressing them all.

"Megatron has ordered us to South America, there's a diamond mine that he wants access to. We'll be on our own this time." The commander glanced at his mechs, his gaze stilling on Swindle for a moment. "Brawl and Vortex will come with me. Swindle, Blast Off will take you to the _Nemesis_. Hook is waiting for you for repairs."

Brawl stiffened as he felt the jeep's unease and sudden bolt of fear. Swindle shifted from one pede to the other, glancing anxiously at Blast Off, his worry mingling with fear at the prospect of being near a shuttle, even if it was one of their own gestalt. Gathering his courage as feelings of protectiveness swelled when the gestalt bond demanded he put the jeep at ease, Brawl glanced up at his commander, straightening his shoulders and standing a little taller. "Ons, can I…ah, go with Swindle and Blast Off to the _Nemesis_?"

Onslaught's massive helm twisted to look at his subordinate, pinning the tank with a hard, cold glare. "Why would you need to go to the _Nemesis_? Blast Off is more than capable of taking Swindle."

Swindle cast Brawl a nervous glance, his worry a palatable thing under his leader's hard gaze. Brawl fidgeted, keeping his servos firmly at his hips. Swindle pushed _thanks_/_gestalt _through the bond lines. "Umm, well…Swin is most comfortable with me. So...so I was thinking that maybe he'll feel better if I…kinda went with him."

The tank glanced up at Onslaughts cold gaze, suddenly feeling really dumb for asking. The feelings of inadequacy were smoothed over, if only a little by the jeep's feelings of thanks.

The very, very small part of Onslaught that was softened by the gestalt bond, wanted to agree, wanted to give Swindle the comfort he needed, but he himself couldn't give. Yet, unless they all wanted to end up back in the detention center, bodiless, suspended in nothing, as nothing, worse than dead, both Swindle and Brawl would have to suck it up.

The mission always came first, their survival counted on their ability to complete missions for Megatron. They were useless unless they completed their missions, and if Megatron didn't kill them outright, they'd be passed back over to Shockwave and put back in the box.

That was unacceptable for Onslaught. He fully intended to survive the war, would make sure his gestalt would as well, as any good commander would.

"No." Onslaught's cold, harsh word made both Swindle and Brawl droop. "I need you with me Brawl. We're already two mechs down, I can't afford a third."

If it was at all possible, Swindle hunched just a little more, feelings of insecurity welling; it was his fault that the team was down two bodies. Blast Off wasn't on the mission because he was taking Swindle to the _Nemesis _and Swindle was too weak to protect himself from an attack. He had failed his team as much as he had failed himself, and now they were all paying the price for that.

Swindle's helm dipped lower as self-loathing and hatred filled him. He was useless to his team, the weakest link; the smallest one with the thinnest armor who couldn't even lift the largest guns. He had no right to be a Combaticon, he wasn't built for war. He could make a great profit from war, but he wasn't designed to fight in one like the others.

Brawl glanced nervously at his gestalt mate, feeling Swindle's nerves, his inadequacy. He tried to comfort his team mate, the best he could, by pushing support down the freshly opened bond lines.

Sighing, Swindle rebuffed the comfort, standing a little taller, straightening his armor, pulling it tighter to his frame. He wasn't as strong or as violent as the others, but he could at least fake strength.

Clearing his throat, trying to portray his usual swag and cockiness, and only half succeeding, Swindle forced a grin at Brawl. "I'll be alright Brawl." He forced his grin a little wider and it almost seemed real. "I'll manage."

No one was fooled by the forced grin from the jeep, and even Brawl knew what the hollow feelings from his gestalt mate really were.

()()()

Swindle signed as he glanced down the dark, empty halls of the _Nemesis_. He knew that Blast Off had also been sent to get more energon to bring back to the Combaticons land base. The shuttle had told him to stay put, stay in the med bay with Hook and the other Constructicons until he returned.

Although Hook had said nothing about the damages to his frame, likely because Onslaught told him to keep his mouth shut about it, Swindle could feel the others urge to ask.

The repairs had been uncomfortable, awkward as Hook repaired his valve and cover, the silence between them thick and suffocating. The jeep had been glad when it was over, wanting nothing more than to escape the medic and find Blast Off. He just wanted to go home, curl up in his berth and rest. He was exhausted, sore and desperately wanted to recharge.

Sighing again, Swindle tried to ping the shuttle former, but all he got was a busy signal. Frustrated, Swindle headed to the lowest storage area, in hopes to find his largest team mate.

Being the middle of the day, most mechs were already on shift or getting ready for shift with a few resting. Most down time was later in the day, the time between second and third shift. With that in mind, Swindle wasn't too worried about having to deal with other Decepticons; he didn't have to put up a false wall of arrogance to ward off the others.

The jeep didn't expect to be confronted, cornered by a large, dark frame that slinked from the shadowy hall. A massive frame that shoved his smaller one into a wall, pinning the jeep face first into the dark wall, his exposed face scrapping along the rough metal.

A large helm dipped down behind his own square one, hot vents rough on the back of his exposed neck, making his tanks churn, sick with worry. An exotic EM field flicked against his own, darkly similar to the one he feared and it made Swindle shudder in fear, terrified of the large mech behind him. He was still too raw to deal with the large mech and terrified of being alone with him with no hope of rescue again.

"Swindle." A dark chuckle sent a cold quake down the jeep's spinal struts, his vents hitching. Fear, true and real fear rippled through his frame, causing his processor to stall as Astrotrain's vents ghosted over the back of his neck.

Swallowing back a yelp of fear, Swindle tried to stop his plating from shaking as he turned his helm to look at the large triple changer behind him. "H…hey Astrotrain." Fear tingled down the bonds, hitting three blocks.

Brawl echoed back his confusion, concern, asking if he was okay. The jeep tried to send feeling of wellbeing, that he was okay, but Swindle could only manage a shaky worry. Distress flickered back from Brawl and the jeep desperately wished that Onslaught had let the tank come with him.

Swindle was all alone at the bottom of the _Nemesis_ and the only one who could feel his distress was Brawl; whom was currently far away on a mission he was supposed to be concentrating on.

Astrotrain's helm dipped lower and this time Swindle wasn't able to bite back the whimper that bubbled from his chest as the triple changer inhaled deeply, smelling the smaller Decepticon. A cruel grin spread across the other's face as he vented gently over the others audio, doing it just to make the other twitched in fear. "Here for repairs Swindle, or another round with me?"

Astrotrain suddenly spun the jeep around, slamming his back into the dark wall behind him, pushing his helm even closer without letting Swindle answer. "I knew you couldn't get enough of me. Little slut that you are."

A single servo trailed down Swindle's icy cold armor; fear was a tangible thing between them, thick and real and Astrotrain lived on it, savoured it. Wanted more of it and having it come from Swindle was all the more delightful.

"I'd be more than happy to give you a second go."

Swindle swallowed the lump in his throat as the servo trailed down his chest and abdomen, his one shoulder pinned to the wall by Astrotrain's massive servo.

"I'm looking for Blast Off." The jeep suddenly babbled; panic thick in his tone. "He…he'll be here any second. He's here, not far, he…"

Astrotrain snarled suddenly, squeezing hard enough to make his shoulder plate buckle while he palmed Swindle's interface panel roughly, just to shut the jeep up. The triple changer grinned at Swindle's frightened squeak and the way those lovely purple optics shone with terror, knowing what was going to happen. Knowing he couldn't stop it.

Shame spread from the Combaticon's spark and heat spread from his chest and into his face; he couldn't protect himself again, Astrotrain was so much larger than him, so much stronger.

"I…I…ah, need to go find Blast Off." Swindle quivered, trying to keep the fear from his voice, the hitch from his vents. He tried desperately to keep the distress from the bond and Brawl, but failed miserably.

Astrotrain leaned in closer, his warm vents spreading out over the small mech's face. "We have time. Blast Off's busy, saw him a little while ago."

There was no hiding the fear in the purple orbs that stared up at Astrotrain, and the larger Decepticon thrived on that fear, it made his mouth water and his spike twitch in anticipation in his housing. Swindle's venting picked up to a panicky pace as the triple changer tried to prise open is interface panel; it was still sensitive from having it replaced and pain shot through his trembling frame.

Swindle swallowed the next whimper that rose in his throat as Astrotrain moved even closer, his engine humming hard against the jeep's frame, shaking Swindle to the core, making him sick. Off-lining his optics, the Combaticon refused to let Astrotrain see his terror any more than he already had.

"Swindle!" Blast Off's hard, cold voice bit out suddenly and Swindle had never known relief as he had in that very moment.

The jeep nearly laughed hysterically as Astrotrain drew away from him, disappointment clear in his EM field. His relief thumped down the open gestalt bond to Brawl, the same feeling echoing back from the tank; then Swindle felt Brawl turn his attention back to his job at servo, the bond between them muting down now that the other Combaticon knew his team mate was safe.

Astrotrain hesitated for a moment before drawing completely away from Swindle's taunt frame, taking a step back and away from the jeep. The triple changer's large helm dipped in a nod to the equally large shuttle. "Blast Off." He greeted easily, leaning back on a leg as he crossed his arms.

Blast Off's armor was pushed out wide from his frame, aggressive, making him look even bigger than he already was. His leg cannons hummed with power as his pale visor flashed and narrowed on Astrotrain. Stalking to where the pair stood, Blast Off firmly put his own large frame between Swindle and Astrotrain, his EM field flicking out hard and almost aggressive against the triple changer.

The shuttle snarled almost softly at the other, before addressing Swindle, never taking his optics from Astrotrain's dark grey and purple form. "I told you to stay in the med bay until I came back for you."

Straightening himself up, drawing his own plating in close to his frame, Swindle's EM flicked against a very agitated Blast Off before drawing in close. Swindle tried to keep the quiver from his voice. "I was just coming to find you."

Swindle cringed at how weak his voice sounded, how small it was in the large, dark hull of the ship.

Blast Off pulled his hard glare from Astrotrain to glare at Swindle over his shoulder, annoyance flicking through his field in thick waves. The dirty look he shot his gestalt mate made Swindle cringe away, pressing his frame harder against the wall.

"You should have waited." Blast Off's cold voice snapped out, rough and scrapping.

Purple optics dropped to the floor, staring at his pedes, trying to be as small as he could. Muttering, his voice was small and broken. "Sorry, just want to get back to base."

Blast Off narrowed his gaze back down at his team mate for a beat longer before turning it back to Astrotrain. The triple changer grinned back at the shuttle, standing a little taller, an arrogant stance to his hips; he knew the gestalt knew it was him, and he knew they'd dare not touch him. Likely didn't care what he had done to Swindle.

Black rage swelled uncharacteristically in Blast Off as Astrotrain grinned back at the shuttle.

Huffing in annoyance Blast Off tore his gaze from Astrotrain, keeping his servos to his side, ignoring how they longed to throttle the arrogant triple changer; no he'd leave that for Vortex, when the time was right. Turning from the other, catching Swindle's frightened optics for a moment, Blast Off nodded to the exit. "Let's go. We've got what we came for."

Like a creature of ice, Blast Off turned, not bothering to wait for Swindle to register that they were leaving, and for a moment the jeep stared into the nasty, amused optics that belonged to Astrotrain. Swindle's pedes were frozen to the ground and he found that for a moment he couldn't move, that he was pinned to the spot by the triple changer's gaze.

A snarl from Blast Off followed by the shouting of "Swindle! Let's go!" broke the jeep from his trance, and sent him nearly running to catch up with this gestalt mate. As the small Combaticon caught up with his larger team member, Astrotrain's dark laughter followed him, his cold voice calling out. "We'll catch up again another time Swindle. We have lots to talk about."

Swindle couldn't stop the shudder as he caught up with Blast Off, inadvertently pushing lightly against the shuttle's large frame, seeking comfort from the only source he had. For once, Blast Off didn't push him away as he sent another dark look over his shoulder, glowering at the triple changer.

Astrotrain would pay, in time, but Blast Off would leave that little joy up to Vortex. He was so much better at that sort of thing than any of them.

()()()

The flight back to the Combaticon's base felt longer than usual, more awkward as Swindle huddled in the corner of Blast Off's cockpit, trying to be as small as possible, trying to keep his EM field as close as possible.

It still didn't stop the occasional flare from the jeep, and when it did, Blast Off could feel his team mate's fear and unease caused by being so close to Astrotrain. Although he didn't often concern himself in his team's affairs, this was something that not even Blast Off was going to let pass. Not with Swindle's distress and anxiety so clear in everything about him; it saturated his EM, it affected the way he held himself, the way he spoke, how he moved. It was wrong; all of it, and it disturbed Blast Off to see his team mate act like this.

When the pair landed, Blast Off waited with the utmost of patience for Swindle to exit his alt form before he transformed smoothly. Not knowing what else to say to the jeep, not sure how to go about setting the other at ease so Blast Off stayed with work. "I have to go put the energon in the storage area. Do you…" he paused, watching Swindle's hesitant stance, helm down, purple optics averted. "Do you want to help me?"

It was something Blast Off could do on his own with ease, but helping might help keep Swindle's mind occupied instead of focusing on the latest brush with Astrotrain.

Purple optics glanced up at the larger frame at his side as the pair entered their base, before dropping back down just as quickly. He shook his helm no as he muttered that he would just rather recharge. Swindle then turned and fled, nearly running away from Blast Off and to the safety of his quarters.

Blast Off let him go, knowing that to stop him would only send Swindle into a higher state of panic, would turn himself into the bad guy in the jeep's frightened mind. If Swindle wanted him nearby, the jeep would seek him out. For the time being, Blast Off's duty to Swindle was complete.

Sighing, Blast Off turned as he entered the base, heading to one of the small storage areas to unload the energon he had gotten. He hadn't expected to be harassed by one of his team mates as he finished his duty, hadn't expected the constant pinging from Brawl as he unloaded the last few cubes.

::Brawl, if Onslaught finds out that you're not paying attention, he's going to peel your armor off.:: Blast Off told his team mate, sounding bored and almost annoyed.

Apparently Brawl didn't care what Onslaught thought at that moment. ::Is Swindle okay?:: Came the tank's worried, even concerned tone.

Frowning to himself, metal brow pulling down in confusion, Blast Off sighed. ::He went to his quarters. He's fine. Now concentrate on what you're supposed to be doing.::

Over the comm. lines, Brawl made a noise of frustration, deep and gravely. ::No there's something wrong with Swindle!:: Blast Off frowned further at the tank's worried tone. ::You need to go check on him.::

Blast Off flinched as though he had been struck, confusion and unease spreading through his own frame. Check on Swindle? It was absurd. ::Brawl…:: the shuttle started, his patience wearing thin with having to deal with Brawl . ::I am not going to check on Swindle. He's fine.::

Blast Off didn't want to disturb his team mate if he was resting, knew he himself hated to be disturbed when he finally got a chance to recharge. Yet Brawl was relentless.,::No! There's something wrong Blast Off.:: there was near panic in the tank's voice now. ::Drop your blocks on the bond, you'll see!::

Sighing, Blast Off crossed his arms. ::Brawl. I am not opening the bonds. This is ridiculous.::

::No, no its not! Open the bond, you'll see!:: The tank was near hysterics, and if he didn't calm down, he was going to blow his mission.

Blast Off could feel the sudden push against his own blocks, the insistent nudging from Brawl to open the blocks. Shifting uncomfortably, the shuttle sighed and forced his frame to still, forced himself to center himself. How bad could it be?

The blocks came back slowly and with effort. He had spent so much time enforcing them, keeping them up that it was difficult to take them back down. As the blocks slowly were disassembled, the first thing Blast Off noticed was the two heavy blocks from Onslaught and Vortex. Normal, nothing different there, blocks up hard as they should be. He ignored them as he sought out Brawl and Swindle.

He found the tank's spark quick enough, felt Brawl's worry and concern pulsing down not only to him, but to the _other_ that had the blocks down. Then he found Swindle and he could feel the jeep's blocks to him were still up, weak but there.

Trilling a small bit of comfort down to Brawl, Blast Off sighed. ::He's got his blocks to me up. I can't feel anything Brawl.::

Brawl made an unhappy noise over the comm. lines. ::I'll get him to drop the block. And…and then you'll see! He needs help.::

Blast Off shifted uncomfortably, almost worried. There was more than just panic in the tank's tone, more than just worry. There was fear there, fear that had nothing to do with the mission he was on. That fear and worry for Swindle had Blast Off's pedes moving to the con-mech's quarters, just in case Brawl wasn't over reacting for once, just in case Swindle really did need help.

Over the gestalt bonds, Blast Off could feel Brawl's concern, could nearly hear the argument he was having with Swindle, could almost feel Brawl trying to push Swindle into dropping the blocks to him; Brawl's own blocks were long gone, and the shuttle could feel the tank's worry and insecurity.

Blast Off was almost to Swindle's quarters when the blocks finally dropped, without warning, and the sheer amount of _terror_ that suddenly slammed into his processor, dropped the shuttle to his knees. His frame shook and shuddered, went icy cold despite the warmth of their island base.

_Desolation/terror/fear _pumped down the gestalt bond and for a moment, Blast Off could feel how Swindle felt, how it was to be a smaller mech, what it felt to be violated in what should have been a safe place. Having no other choice, Blast Off narrowed the bond to Swindle, backing away from the fear that welled from the other. He didn't know what to do with that, didn't know how to send comfort to the jeep, or even if it would be appreciated.

Brawl sent _team/gestalt/comfort _down to both Blast Off and Swindle whilst over the comm. lines, Brawl whined. ::Blast Off! Do something. You're the only one on base.::

Huffing with annoyance and effort, the shuttle forced himself to his pedes, using the wall as support, his knees shaking as they wanted to give out under him again. Pushing _fine/fine/fine_ to Brawl, Blast Off sighed. ::Alright. I'll see to Swindle, get back to work and concentrate on what you're doing.::

Unease flickered through the tank's side of the bond. ::But Swindle…::

::Will be taken care of. It will do him no good if you get killed because you're not concentrating on the mission. Nor will it do anyone any good if you screw up Onslaught's mission because you're not paying attention.::

::But…::

Blast Off ignored the tank, pushing _calm_ down the gestalt bond before he was aware of the actions and cursed the gestalt bond. It was what made them act this way, made them look out for each other when they would have killed each other. ::I'll take care of Swindle. Now narrow the bond until you get back!::

The shuttle could practically see Brawl fidget as he did as he was told, narrowing the bond to both Swindle and Blast Off as he tried desperately to concentrate on the job that Onslaught had given him.

Once he was sure that Brawl was at least mostly focused on what he was supposed to be doing, Blast Off forced his pedes to move the rest of the way to Swindle's quarters. Slowly, controlled, Blast Off reopened the gestalt bonds, widening them to only Swindle.

The terror came back as Swindle's presence seeped into Blast Off's spark and the shuttle heaved a shaky sigh as he pushed comfort and safe back down to the jeep. He felt the jeep's surprise at Blast Off's presence, could feel Swindle's hesitation as he opened the bond a little wider.

Blast Off finally stood outside Swindle's quarters, outwardly annoyed, internally worried, thinking through what he was going to say to the jeep. Doing what none of the others were likely do to, he knocked on the door, his voice low and patient. "Swindle let me in."

Nothing happened, nothing moved. The bond seemed to twitch as Swindle tried to withdraw. He knocked on the door again and a bolt of fear shuddered down the bond as Blast Off called through the thick metal again. "Swindle, open the door. I just want to talk to you." The gestalt bond demanded it.

There was a pause, a long frightened hesitation before the door swooshed open.

Settling his armor along his frame, relaxing himself and trying to look smaller, Blast Off slowly entered the jeep's quarters. Swindle was on his berth, legs dangling over the edge, large purple optics focused on his knees as his digits tugged at a transformation seam there.

Without saying anything to the jeep, Blast Off moved slowly to where Swindle sat, easing himself down beside his team mate. The smaller Decepticon's EM field, saturated in fear and exhaustion, flicked out against his own. Blast Off said nothing as he let his own EM field, full of confidence and ease wrap around Swindle, hoping that it would provide some form of comfort to the jeep. The shuttle was encouraged when Swindle didn't fight him and instead sighed, letting the others field surround him.

Blast Off's presence was so different from Astrotrai…_his_. It was the only thing that made it tolerable to be near the large mech. Awkward attempts at trilling comfort down the bond lines were more appreciated than Blast Off likely realised, and it helped sooth the feelings of fear that ruled Swindle's spark.

He hadn't been ready to confront Astrotrain, he shuddered at the mech's name; he had been too raw to confront him so soon. He could feel the large mech's touch on his plating, could feel his touch _inside_ his frame.

Feeling his team mate's fear, with a gentle sigh Blast Off laid a large servo over the smaller mech's shoulder. "You want to talk about it?"

Swindle shook his helm in the negative to the awkwardly asked question, drawing his plating in closer to his weary frame, his unease echoing down the gestalt bonds.

The shuttle awkwardly sent _safe/team/safe_ down the bonds, knowing it wasn't enough to make Swindle feel better, not nearly enough to dull the edge of the other's fear, but he didn't know what else to do. Clearing his throat, Blast Off was determined to try, his servo moving down from his shoulder to Swindle's smaller servo. "You know, we are going to get Astrotrain for this."

Purple optics finally drew up to Blast Off's pale visor, not saying anything as the shuttle continued whilst sharing _team/gestalt/concern_. "He's not going to get away with this Swindle." No one had bothered to actually tell the mech that had been attacked this, and Blast Off knew he needed to hear it from them, needed to hear it right now.

Swallowing hard, purple optics dropped again, confusion swelling. "But why? After all I've done. After everything I did to you guys. Why do you care?"

There was still a lot of rage directed at Swindle after what he had done to them, after he had stripped them down to bare parts and _sold them to humans_. Rage flickered through Blast Off and it made Swindle flinch and shrink away from his team mate. Wrestling with his own feelings, Blast Off tempered them down; they would deal with that another day.

"I…I didn't mean to." Swindle stuttered, optics still cast down, and Blast Off couldn't see how he _hadn't _meant to sell their parts off. Purple optics flicked upwards to the shuttle's. "And, and I'm so sorry."

The soft plea was near enough to take the edge off the rage from Blast Off, and the shuttle sighed, sending comfort down the bond again. He didn't say it was okay, because really, it wasn't, but at least it was a start.

Gruffly, Blast Off pulled a small tin from his sub space and set it between them. Confused, purple optics drew across to the tin as Blast Off opened the lid, revealing the contents inside. Picking one up, Blast Off's voice was rough, rougher than he wanted it to be. "If I were you Swindle, I would not squander your second chance." _Comfort/team mate/ safe_ "Next time, we may not be so forgiving."

The shuttle then offered the treat to Swindle and the jeep's large optics shot wide, the fear and hurt from Astrotrain momentarily forgotten. The metal brow of the jeep's face then furrowed as he inspected the goodie. "But…why?"

Blast Off shrugged. "We're a team, whether we want it or not." His voice was still gruff. "So we look out for each other, when it really matters."

The energon goodie was still between them, an offering to the jeep, and Blast Off felt the awkwardness of the situation creeping in between them too. "Would you just take the damn thing."

Glancing warily at Blast Off, Swindle reached out to take the offering and unsure of his team mate's gesture, he questioned. "What's this?"

Picking up a treat for himself, popping it into his mouth, Blast Off shrugged. "An energon goodie." His tone was bored, annoyed and purposely distant in hopes to make the situation less awkward.

Swindle frowned but the feelings of fear were slowly drowned out from his team mates close proximity, taking comfort in having Blast Off so close with both his EM field and bond open. Swindle snorted as he popped the goodie into his mouth, slowly moving a little closer to Blast Off, savouring the treat as it nearly melted on his glossa. "I _know_ that. _Why_ are you giving me a goodie?"

The shuttled shifted uncomfortably before he settled with his back against the wall next to Swindle, settling on his berth, offering another treat, which Swindle accepted.

Huffing an annoyed sigh, not completely sure why he was doing this, Blast Off swallowed hard. "My creators died in an accident, when I was young. My carrier's best friend, a femme he met at the academy, was a seeker and it was she who raised me for most of my life."

The pale visor came back to Swindle. "I've picked up several of their habits after spending so much time living with them." Venting, he looked away. "And one thing seekers do, when one of the trine is suffering, they…um, take care of said member, by feeding them. They will even, um…sing to the downed trine mate, if the need is great enough." Embarrassment and modification nearly chocked the shuttle, but he managed to keep his tone even and smooth.

Purple orbs became wide, an energon treat part way to Swindle's mouth as he openly gaped at the shuttle. "Sing!" he chocked, as shock flickered through his EM field.

Embarrassed, Blast Off looked away and nodded, the bond between them filling with softer feelings of protection along with the harder ones that promised vengeance on Swindle's behalf. "It took more than I am willing to admit to keep myself from singing when we first…" the shuttle paused, unsure. "Found you last night."

Swindle continued to gape at his larger team mate, the energon goodie still suspended close to his mouth. Something flickered through the bond and the EM field that was almost amusement from Swindle. The con-mech shook his helm, breaking himself from his frozen state and he popped the treat in his mouth. "Wow. Could you imagine what Vortex would say if you had started singing?"

Blast Off grinned down at Swindle from behind his mask, the jeep _almost_ sounded like himself, almost felt like himself. Still, there was an under lining fear, unease, simmering away. Brawl suddenly perked up in the bond once again, sending _support/care/comfort _down to both Swindle and Blast Off before his side going mute again.

Leaning into the wall, Blast Off sank into the feeling of having the bond open and thought about how easy it was to monitor the wellbeing of his team mates with it open, how easy it was to see what dangers any of them may be in. He could feel Swindle's exhaustion. Passing the jeep another goodie, Blast Off glanced at his team mate. "You should get some rest Swindle."

Accepting another treat, Swindle popped it into his mouth. Glancing down, the jeep murmured, "Will you stay? I don't think I can fall into recharge, not after being so close to him, not right now."

Fidgeting uncomfortably, Blast Off nodded. "Just this once."

Relief flickered through Swindle's EM field as he crawled over to where Blast Off sat, laying his helm against the shuttle's leg. Purple optics flickered off as Swindle tried to rest, taking comfort in the fact that Blast Off was with him, and nothing bad would happen to him so long as his larger gestalt mate was with him.

Pulling a data pad out from Subspace, the energon goodies forgotten, the shuttle settled down to read whilst the smaller Combaticon cycled down beside him.

Suddenly the jeep's helm tilted up towards Blast Off's face, his optics on-lining as a small grin spread across his face, his first genuine smile since the attack happened a cycle ago. "Will you sing to me?"

Blast Off spluttered as he glanced down at his team mate and he could feel Swindle's honest want and hope that he would; there was no mocking gesture, no malice in the others spark at his request. The shuttle shifted uncomfortably. He didn't sing for anyone, not any more. Not since Vos fell. But Swindle's large purple optics were almost pleading up at him.

"It'll help me recharge." Swindle muttered, and Blast Off questioned the accuracy of that statement.

Yet, Swindle's small voice sounded so broken, so hopeful that Blast Off couldn't help himself, the gestalt bonds called for him to do something, anything for his team mate. "You will tell _no one_ of this Swindle."

The jeep grinned up at his gestalt mate, wide and innocent. "Not a soul."

Blast Off snarled, dark and angry. "I mean it Swindle. No one hears about this."

Swindle slowly fell into an easy recharge as Blast Off's deep voice began to sing softly, lulling Swindle into a sense of peace he had yet to feel since the attack. That sense of peace echoed to Brawl, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt like it was going to be okay.


	5. Just A Little Talk

A huge thank you to SilhouetteSeeker, Sam, DarknessRising10,Wanderling, Jovianokami, Foxyperv, Kateu-Niu, Daoi Sidhe, DeamonSurfer, and Kathy3meme who all reviewed the last chapter, all the support was over whelming and very much needed for that chapter. So hugs and cookies for all!

A huge, massive thank you to DarkestHour10 who beta'd this chapter. As always you caught the silly things that I missed, and helped tie up all those loose ends!

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I own nothing.

()()()

The road to recovery in Swindle's shattered mind was going well, far better than Onslaught had dared hope for. Considering who his mech's were, Onslaught had been worried, deeply, that the little grounder wasn't going to be able to recover from his attack, and that the others would not be able to handle the delicate situation.

The Combaticon commander had never been so glad to be wrong as he was now as for whatever their reasons, Brawl and Blast Off had taken it upon themselves to care for their damaged team mate. At least one of them was with the little jeep at all times, Brawl more actively talking to Swindle, whereas Blast Off was acting as a more supportive figure, always there should Swindle need him.

The grounder also took to recharging with one or the other of them, and as far as Onslaught knew, it kept the night terrors away; and, although the commander could never be too sure, Onslaught thought he had heard singing coming from Blast Off's quarters whenever Swindle was recharging with him.

A crazy notion yes, but if it helped Swindle, Onslaught wasn't going to say anything that would hamper his subordinate's healing.

Blast Off and Brawl had even managed to coax a still scared Swindle back into the storage area of the base, cleaning the spilt energon from the floor and finally unpacking the shipment. The larger of the two Combaticons had stayed with the jeep the whole time, and Brawl going as far as to hold his gestalt mate's servo while Blast Off used acid to scrub the floor clean.

Their relationship went even further, deeper, as they opened the bonds up to one another. A three way opening that was beginning to call to Onslaught himself. But he resisted the urge to drop the blocks and join the others, after all, they were forced into a gestalt, not born of one.

Yet, the very small voice at the back of his processor had argued, how easy would it be to monitor his mechs, especially Vortex, with the bond open? How nice would it be to not be alone all the dammed time? To know that there were four others who were looking out for him in every sense of the way, while he looked out for them.

It was a silly notion that was only brought on by the forced link, nothing more.

Yet, things were still going well, so very well. Or at least, they had been until Vortex decided he wanted to _help,_ and Vortex only knew one way to help others. A way that would do nothing but send Swindle spiraling back down into the depression and fear he fought so hard against.

Rage swelled within the commander's spark, causing his frame to shake with it, and it took every ounce of will power to simply not beat the interrogator's face plates in.

Slapping the control to his office door, the metal sliding open with a _whoosh_, Onslaught tossed Vortex inside, too angry at the smaller mech to care that the copter tripped on his way in, skidding along the ground on servos and knees plates.

As Onslaught stormed into his office, Vortex jumped to his pedes and spun to face his commander, palms torn open from his fall, his rotors fanning out with a hiss. The commander wasn't the least bit threatened by his subordinates display of aggression, his own armour puffed out and his weapons humming hot with energy.

Growling, deep in his chest and engine revving high with his nearly blinding anger, Onslaught stalked towards his interrogator, causing the other to back up. "What, in your fragged up processor, where you thinking!?"

Vortex hissed back at his commander, circling around the desk, putting it between himself and Onslaught. "I did nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong!" Onslaught roared, following Vortex around the table, the copter moving again, keeping it between them. The Combaticon commander wasn't worried about Vortex trying to escape as he had locked the door behind him, trapping the pair of them in.

Onslaught was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

"How can you not see what you did was wrong? Or what you tried to do? After what happened to Swindle, how could pressuring him into interfacing be a good idea?"

Vortex paused in his endless fleeing, his helm canting in confusion. "But, but it's always worked in the past."

Onslaught, still angry, didn't hear the confusion in the others tone, couldn't feel it soak through his EM field and storming to the copter, the Combaticon commander grabbed Vortex's upper arm and gave him a hard shake. "We aren't there anymore Vortex! Not everyone can feel better like that! I've told you this before!"

Clawed digits took a swipe at Onslaught's servo, forcing the other to let go. Not backing down, Vortex's armour puffed back up, getting right in his commanders face, sharp digit jabbing in the larger mech's face. "No! That's not fair! Swindle is just being a coward, it wasn't that bad!"

"Vortex!" The commander snarled, his EM pressing against Vortex for the first time, truly feeling the others confusion, his not understanding as to why Onslaught was so angry, why what he had done was the wrong thing to do.

It took the anger right from the commander, it allowed him to control his rage, calm down and remind himself where Vortex had come from.

"We went through worse! Much worse! The things they did to us." The square helm shook as Vortex backed away. "Interfacing always made everyone else happy. Always!"

Onslaught sighed, trying to take a step towards the copter. He needed to draw Vortex from those memories. He didn't have the time to deal with a spiraling Vortex and Swindle.

"Vortex, what they did was wrong. What they did to _us_ was wrong. I've told you this before. You can't rely on those impulses because they are _wrong_." A heavy sigh left the larger mech as he took a step closer to the copter.

Vortex was having none of it and he took a step back, confusion flaring through his EM again, his servos twitching in agitation, rotors shuddering as he tried to control emotions he had no idea how to deal with. "If we can live through that, this should be a cakewalk for Swindle!"

Onslaught sighed, taking another step towards Vortex, trying to get within an arm's reach of the copter, to use a tactile touch to calm the other down. Vortex took another step back, his helm shaking.

"Vortex, you can't compare what happened to us to what's happened to Swindle. What happened to us shaped us, what happened to Swindle, well that could still shatter him. It happened at different points in our lives." Onslaught snapped, the last dregs of his anger bleeding out.

Vortex shifted uncomfortably, his ruby optics dropping down, his rotors flicking. An uncomfortable silence hung between them as Vortex struggled to grasp why his commander was so angry, why what he did was wrong. Onslaught left him to it, waited patiently for the _Eureka_ moment when things clicked in his twisted helm.

The commander waited for that moment. Vortex was smarter than most gave him credit for, could force himself to think in different ways, adapt to his new surroundings with frightening accuracy. It was what made him such an effective interrogator. He could look at a mech and pick him apart in minutes.

Yet, for all his skills, all his knowledge, Vortex still struggled to grasp emotions, stunted from the messed up younglinghood they had lived. Onslaught feared what Vortex might have been like had he been in touch with his own emotions; if he was manipulative now, he'd be worse had he understood his own spark.

Shuddering suddenly, Vortex's whole frame gave a violent shake as he refocused back on Onslaught. "Fine. I'll leave Swindle alone." There was something wrong, something off with Vortex's voice. "Unlock the door."

Large helm canting, Onslaught gave Vortex a sideways glance. "Tex." There was enough warning in his tone to tell Vortex to not lie.

Dead optics shone blankly from behind a pale visor. "I said I'd leave Swindle alone. Let me out."

There was defiantly something wrong with Vortex's tone. The little sarcastic lithe was gone, leaving his voice blank and dead. It happened when Vortex shut himself off, closed off his spark when he could no longer deal with what was going on around him.

On a normal day, Onslaught would work to bring his subordinate back around, but today Swindle needed him more. As much as he tried to not let it happen, Brawl and Blast Off were both off base on minor missions for Megatron, leaving him alone to deal with a fragile Swindle.

Heaving a sigh, Onslaught unlocked the door and not looking back once, Vortex stormed from the room, leaving the commander alone with his thoughts, wondering how he was to fix his broken team.

()()()

Onslaught marched to Swindle's quarters, arms loose and relaxed, trying and failing to be calm. He had no idea what he was going to say to Swindle, what could he possibly say to the jeep to smooth out what Vortex had done.

Anxiety chewed at Onslaught's spark in an unexpected way, and he knew he shouldn't be so nervous around the smaller mech, his anger was nothing compared to Vortex's or his own; yet Swindle had survived something that Onslaught had honestly doubted the little con-mech would have survived.

Had the attack happened to anyone else, _anyone_, Onslaught would have had a better understanding on how to fix this, how to make it better and ensure the efficiency of his unit improved. But Swindle was an enigma who constantly had secondary goals and side agendas to their main tasks and objectives.

Swindle was a sneaky, back stabbing little glitch who desired credits and material things more than anything else, yet still seemed to want to be part of their team and it frustrated Onslaught no end. Before the detention center, before they became the Combaticon's, Onslaught had made the mistake in believing that no one could vex him more than Vortex.

Then he met Swindle.

Coming to the con-mech's door, Onslaught vented a sigh and used the override code to open the door which separated him and the little jeep. The commander prepared himself mentally for the fight that was about to come.

Finally the commander entered the room and found Swindle pacing back and forth, servos clenched tightly at his sides as he stared angrily at the floor.

The door behind Onslaught slid shut, pulling Swindle's angry optics to his commander and drawing a hiss from the little jeep. "Leave me alone!"

Onslaught ignored the angrily spoken words, ignored Swindle's distress which flared through his ragged EM as he slowly moved across the room to sit on the berth. Nodding to the other, the larger Combaticon gave his subordinate the order to sit.

A sour look crossed Swindle's face, hard and angry. "No! Not this time."

"Swindle." Onslaught tried again, grasping for patience.

"No! You always take Vortex's side, _always!_ It's not fair and I don't want to hear it! Not this time!" Swindle babbled; nearing on panic as his turbulent emotions overran his processor.

"_Swindle!_" Onslaught, not known for his patience, snapped. "Sit down and shut up for a moment." The commander took a breath, trying to calm himself for the sake of the jeep.

The con-mech glared at him for a beat longer before he stomped over to the berth like an over spoilt sparkling, practically throwing himself on the berth beside Onslaught. Pedes dangling and swinging lightly below him, Swindle glared up angrily at Onslaught, the hurt in is purple optics shining far too brightly up at his commander.

While Swindle was hurt, far more than he would ever admit, by Vortex's actions, confused even as to why the interrogator would try something so foolish with him so soon. Vortex was equally confused, and angry by Swindle's slow healing process; his confusion was only increased by his inability to understand why coaxing him into interfacing was wrong.

Onslaught knew that Vortex had reacted to Swindle's own reaction that night he found him, angry that Swindle had been hurt, yet not comprehending why. To Vortex, interfacing, however one could get it, should have been a good thing.

Taking another vent, Onslaught continued to fight for patience. "What I am about to tell you is confidential Swindle and if you _ever_ repeat a word of this to anyone, I will not be responsible for the outcome. Do you understand me?"

Angry purple optics glared back at his commander. "I don't care what you have to say!" The jeep's anger gave him the confidence to talk back, despite the swirling emotions. "You always take Vortex's side!"

"I do not." The snarl should have been enough warning for Swindle to drop the argument, but he was too angry, too hurt to take heed.

"You do!" Swindle's tone was edging into hysterics, engine revving high. "You always do!"

"Enough Swindle!" The commander roared, forcing Swindle to draw in his EM, optics dropping to his knees. Not for the first time that cycle, Swindle wished that Brawl and Blast Off had not had to go out on a mission, that they could have kept the bond open and that things could have stayed good for just a little while longer.

"Fine." Swindle softly snarled, purple optics remaining on his knees in an angry sulk. Gone were the days that Swindle spent crying over what had happened to him, anger replacing the helplessness and overwhelming fear.

_Good_. Onslaught thought to himself. _Swindle needs that strength._

"Not a word Swindle."

The little jeep's helm bounced in a nod, and only when Onslaught was sure he understood, did the commander start talking.

"I know what Vortex did was wrong." Swindle snorted at the statement. "And you know what Vortex did was wrong, and really fragging dumb. But in his processor, he honestly thought he was helping you. It's the only way he knows how to."

Purple optics shot back up, angry, confused and weary as he held his commanders gaze. "Why...why is that the only way?"

Onslaught settled back against the wall and took another large vent of air. Not quite believing he was about to tell Swindle this story.

"My sparker's family had this...tradition, a theory, if you will, to breed stronger soldiers."

"Wait." The jeep interrupted, confusion written across his face. "I thought this was about Vortex."

"It is. Just pay attention." Onslaught snapped, and didn't say another word until Swindle was silent once more.

"Several Orns before I was due to get my adult upgrades, my sparker pulled me out of the military academy and informed me it was my time to go through the _family_ training. Rambled some nonsense about breeding stronger soldiers that could cope with anything, that if I could survive the family training I could survive through just about anything. This training, if you even call it that, was in the form of one of the dirtiest brothels in Kaon."

The large, chunky shoulders ruefully shrugged, "My sparker had the nerve to tell me that in order to create something stronger, you first had to break it. That's what they intended for me when they sent me away, to be broken so they could rebuild me into what they saw fit."

The sarcasm that dripped from the commander's voice was palatable, and Swindle felt his jaw drop open. Never, in a millennia would Swindle have thought those words would pass from Onslaught's lips. "I always had top of the line, war grade upgrades and I was given to a brothel to be broken."

Red optics rolled from behind the bright visor while the jeep felt a numbed surprise overtake his anger. "The owners thought a war frame would be considered exotic, something novel for their clients while they did my creators bidding." Onslaught shook his helm. "They never did break me though, all they did was teach my how to hate someone with my entire spark while I learnt how to channel my rage."

Shoulders shrugged again. "Anyway, there was only one other mechling trapped there that was my age."

Understanding clicked in Swindle's helm nearly instantly, large purple optics going wide in understanding. "Vortex?"

Onslaught nodded, confirming what Swindle had already figured out. "Vortex."

Heaving another sigh, the commander's EM flared out against Swindle's and he felt that he had the other's complete attention. "When I first met Vortex he could not speak. He had been at the brothel for almost his entire life, and in a bid to ensure he never revealed his, and their, dark secrets to anyone outside of the little world he had been entrenched in, the brothel owners had disabled his vocaliser." The commander heaved a sigh, not quite believing himself that he was telling _Swindle_ of all mecha this story.

"No one had ever bothered to teach him, despite his showing signs of the intelligence that he needed for it. They didn't see what need he had for either." Yet another shrug came from the larger Combaticon. "I guess what they had planned for Vortex didn't include him being able to read and write."

"So wait. They..."

"He grew up thinking life at the brothel was normal. Never could remember his creators, he only knew the brothel and I can only speculate that they maintained his military upgrades for the exotic look he had."

Swindle sat in a stunned silence, allowing his commander to continue, his anger bleeding away. "They put me in Vortex's room as we were the same age and at the time, of a similar build so it seemed like a good idea. So while they _taught…_" the word was spat angrily "us, I taught Vortex to read, write and speak basic Cybertronian."

Onslaught already knew the question Swindle wanted to ask, after all, none of the Combaticons were medics. "During my time at the military academy I was taught a level of field care, leaving me with a basic understanding of how to at least reconnect a several components, including a vocaliser. It was a crude job that I did but it sufficed until we could get someone to look at him. Anyway, Vortex is far from stupid and picked up all I taught him quickly. In time he began to understand, began to be able to communicate with me, made his vociliser work properly with the crude repairs. He even picked his own name when he was able to and eventually, he was able to explain about his safe place."

Metal brow furrowing, the smaller Combaticon glanced up at his commander. "That's what Vortex calls the base, his safe place."

Onslaught nodded. "No matter where Vortex is, he always has his safe place. The one place he can retreat and think. Back then, it was our shared quarters. Here, it is our base, but it has always been important to Vortex to maintain. Before I met him, his safe place was all that he had."

Shrugging again, Onslaught went on. "In any case, Vortex grew up in an environment where interfacing when upset was normal. Where, if one mech was down in the dumps, interfacing would cheer him. Vortex had no choice to believe that interfacing, in no matter its form, was the only way to comfort and even if it hurt, it was still a good thing. That it was okay that it hurt because it was normal. _That's_ what the mechs at the brothel taught him."

Looking down, Swindle shifted uncomfortably at the thought of _Onslaught and Vortex_ of all mech's being in a place like that, being small and vulnerable. It just didn't fit and it unsettled him. He knew that at some point they would have had to have been small and young, yet Swindle could never image it, could never bring himself to imagine his cold, overbearing commander or the violent interrogator being mechlings. He had always assumed they just popped into existence as they were; cold, ruthless and brutal.

It disturbed Swindle to think otherwise. Plucking up his courage, Swindle glanced back up at his commander, and not quite able to hold his optics he asked, "So, what happened?"

"Huh? Oh. I eventually convinced the owner it was time to get us our final adult upgrades even though we were still too young for it. He kept with the military upgrades since they seemed to be selling well, but it put us at a distinct advantage. We were bigger and stronger than most mechs now and we eventually over powered a client and took his weapons, killing everyone there."

Onslaught gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. "That was when Vortex found his taste for blood energon. Never did hear that mech laugh until he learned to kill. We then tracked down my creators and killed them both for leaving me there. Then we managed to track down Vortex's creators and did the same before setting up shop in Kaon."

Confusion welled with in the jeep as he settled next to his commander. Kaon was where he had met Onslaught and Vortex, they had both been known for their violent work. "But, Vortex can read and write well now."

The utter confusion almost made Onslaught smirk. "I told you, he's far from stupid. Occasionally, he'll come across a word he doesn't understand, but once he's learnt it, he never forgets."

As Swindle looked away, frowning again, an uncomfortable silence settled between the pair. Heavy and dark like an ever widening gap and if Onslaught ever wanted his team to function properly, that gap needed to be closed.

"Whether or not either of you admit to it, you are important to Vortex, as is this team. You are one of the few who have managed to wheedle your way into…" Onslaught paused, looking for the right word, "what Vortex would call affection. He may not understand completely why you are upset and hurt, but he understands that you are."

Turning back to his commander, Swindle was hesitant, his EM flaring with a tentative hope. "I...I'm important to Vortex?"

Onslaught heaved a sigh as he felt the pressure to drop the block that separated him from the others. He knew a lot of it had to do with the demand from the gestalt programming, but a tiny part of him wanted to. He could monitor his team better that way, and they would work better if they could learn to communicate through the bond like the Autobot twins did, or bonded pairs and other gestalts.

Life in general would be so much simpler if he just dropped the blocks.

"So, Vortex only wanted to help?"

"In his own way." Onslaught grumbled, fighting the unfamiliar urge.

Swindle glanced back down, his EM ragged and tired as it pressed against Onslaughts'. His smaller, lighter engine hitched, and distress shone in his downturned optics. There were too many things going on, too many unexpected feelings from his team and Swindle was feeling overwhelmed.

Venting one last sigh, Onslaught did the only thing he could; slowly, he awkwardly pulled back the blocks on his side of the bond, feeling for Swindle. Immediately he found Vortex, the thick cold wall of nothing that protected the other's spark was not hard to miss.

Brawl and Blast Off were also easy to find. Their lighter blocks were only up for the mission and they were more than likely vaguely aware of what was happening on base.

Then, there was Swindle.

The amount of hurt, confusion and disorientation that flooded through from the jeep's spark caused Onslaught to shudder and automatically send a bolt of _safe/teammate/gestalt _down the lines.

Startled, Swindle's bright optics shot up to his commander; confused at first, then accepting of the new connect of their bond. Unexpectedly pleased that his part of the bond had not been instantly rejected, Onslaught awkwardly pushed more feelings and emotions through to Swindle, his own uneasy way of comforting his damaged subordinate.

Accepting his commander's comfort, his cold yet calming feelings, Swindle settled against the wall, leaning into Onslaught's massive arm. Pushing his feelings of _Thanks_ back to his commander, but it still didn't feel like enough, not after all Onslaught had told him to help him understand.

Resetting his vocaliser, Swindle said the words that he never thought he would hear himself say. "Thanks Ons."

An uncomfortable nod and an equally uncomfortable "You're welcome" slipped from Onslaught, yet the feelings of wholeness, of unity and gestalt soothed the embarrassing feelings. Hesitantly, Swindle settled a little further against Onslaught's arm, basking in the larger mech's warm frame, letting his EM mesh with his commanders'.

Soothed from his hurt feelings, Swindle wondered how to go about repairing things with Vortex, now that he knew his true intentions. How did one go about mending bonds when the other party didn't understand emotions, or right from wrong?


	6. Last String Connected

Thank you to DarknessRising10 who did the beta work on this chapter. It's awesome as always! :D

And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented! I love the support from you guys. 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

()()()

When Swindle finally managed to pin Vortex down, it had been over a fortnight since his fumbled attempt to _comfort_ his gestalt mate. Although, if Swindle had pondered the thought long enough, pinned down was not quite right, and dumb luck was closer to the truth.

Vortex was curled over a cube of high grade, one servo propping up his helm, the opposite pede tucked under him as he stared blankly at the gun metal grey table. That was how Swindle found him while he had been wandering down to Blast Off's quarters to recharge.

Listening to the deadly claws clinking softly against the glass of his cube, Swindle froze, suspended as he watched Vortex from the shadows.

Vortex and Onslaught had always been close, Swindle now understood why they were, but since the commander had opened the bonds to Swindle, Brawl and Blast Off, Vortex had closed himself off further. Possessive and angry, Vortex had become bitterly jealous that the one mech who had always belonged to him, had chosen the other three.

It made the interrogator lash out at them all the more, made him withdraw into his processor further. It almost seemed that Vortex didn't know if he wanted to run away from his gestalt, or cling to them in a desperate attempt to hold onto all he knew.

Vortex was angry, and if Swindle guessed right, hurt by what he saw as a betrayal by Onslaught; a betrayal he solely blamed Swindle for.

Hesitating a moment longer, knowing his gestalt mate was angry and jealous, and currently unpredictable, Swindle took a deep vent as he slowly entered the rec. room. The little jeep was alone, everyone else was deep in recharge and it would take them time to come to his rescue should Vortex decide that ripping his spark out was a better alternative than talking out their confusing bond.

With another deep intake of air, gathering the last of his waning courage, Swindle quietly approached his angry gestalt mate, moving slowly as one would when approaching an injured wild animal. As the jeep approached the table, Swindle caught a look at the side of Vortex's face; the 'copter's visor lay on the table and his mask was drawn back, allowing the smaller Combaticon to see his gestalt mate's bare face.

Vortex's scarred lips were pulled down in a small frown, crimson optics were unfocused as he stared blankly at the table, deep in thought as his claws continued their soft clinking. Then Swindle pulled out the chair beside the heliformer, gently taking a seat next to him, drawing Vortex's optics.

The 'copter's frown deepened as he focused on the jeep next to him, optics sharpening, then darkening as he glowered at Swindle. "Fuck. Off!" Vortex spat, his favorite human curse rolling off his glossa with ease.

Swindle fought the urge to flinch back, to draw away from the hostile EM field and the snarling mouth. Instead the jeep only twitched before he straightened back up in his seat, drawing his chair ever so slightly closer to the hostile interrogator.

"I...I just want to talk Vortex. Talk to you." Swindle explained slowly, feeling lame and uncomfortable next to a very angry Vortex, knowing those dangerous claws could rip into him with frightening ease.

"I don't want to talk to you. Now, piss off!" The 'copter hissed back, his words angry and aggressive.

Hesitating for a moment, Swindle took hold of himself, managing to keep his voice from shaking. "Then will you sit there and listen?"

Vortex's helm slowly turned, focusing on Swindle again, bright optics narrowed and annoyed, mouth pulled into a hard line. The 'copter seemed to consider what the jeep had asked of him, and Swindle quietly waited for the answer, hoping Vortex would at least listen.

Suddenly shaking his helm so hard it was almost a thrash, Vortex snarled. "You've got nothing to say that I give a damn about."

Standing suddenly, Vortex scooped up his high grade and drank it back in a single hard swallow. Dismay filled Swindle, flaring out softly against Vortex's hard EM as the heliformer wiped his mouth with the back of his servo. Dropping the cube back on the table, Vortex scooped up his visor snapping it back in place as his battle mask slid shut.

Desperate, Swindle tried the gestalt bond, reaching out to the helicopter in ways only a gestalt mate could. The jeep was met with a solid, thick block that sent a shiver down Swindle's spinal struts. Vortex paused for a moment, feeling the pressure from Swindle but the interrogator shrugged the feeling off, ignoring Swindle's attempt to connect.

Turning his back on his team mate, Vortex made to walk away. He didn't need his gestalt, he had always done fine without them and he would do so again. It wasn't like he was jealous that Onslaught had opened the bond with the other three, yet had not even attempted it with him; despite Vortex always wanting to try it.

No, he was not jealous at all. Not angry that Swindle had suddenly taken precedence in everyone's lives because he was too weak to protect himself. The interrogator snorted to himself as he thought about what he had gone through, how it would have killed Swindle, how it would have broken the little jeep so thoroughly that he would have never recovered.

Swindle watched his gestalt mate walk away from him and the jeep felt a true moment of dismay flutter through his spark. The gestalt was incomplete without Vortex, and although none would admit it, the feeling of incompleteness bothered them. The gestalt coding called to them more than ever now that the bonds were open, and were likely calling to Vortex to drop his blocks and join his team too.

Squaring his shoulders, Swindle jumped up from his chair, catching Vortex's forearm before the interrogator left him alone in the dark, holding on for all his worth and hoping it was enough to stall Vortex.

"Tex please! Just…just wait." Swindle's tone took a near pleading tone, not wanting Vortex to leave quite yet. Not when the combiner coding told him not to let him go, and not with the gestalt link humming with incompleteness, knowing just _how_ close to feeling whole they all really where. "Vortex, would you…just hear me out?"

The 'copters helm dipped, visor dim and focused at the spot between his pede's, rotors still at his back. His servo's clenched and Swindle could feel the pistons in Vortex's arm tighten with the action, could feel the first wisps of anger and hatred in the ragged EM.

"I know how you're feeling. I know why you're feeling this way." Swindle started, hoping to connect with his angered gestalt mate. Vortex turned his helm ever so slightly, a single red optic blazing bright over an armoured shoulder, through the crystal visor, focusing on Swindle.

"Let me go Swindle. Or I swear I will dismantle you." Came the cold reply.

Instead, Swindle nervously kept going, hesitantly holding onto Vortex's arm. "I know you were only trying to help. I know you didn't mean to scare me."

The admission of his fear nearly gutted Swindle, but if he wanted to connect to his gestalt, he needed to be open. If they couldn't be open with each other, then who could they be honest with? Between the five of them, they were all each other had left, and they needed to take care of one another.

The deep growl from Vortex's throat should have been the warning enough, the hitch in the other's engine and the rage that flooded his EM, should have been all the warning Swindle needed to know that Vortex was at the end of his tether. That the tentative hold over his rage was weakening, and any little slight would send the 'copter spiraling down into a black rage.

"Onslaught…he well. He told me what happened. To the two of you." Swindle started slowly, fighting for the right words, not noticing how Vortex's vents stilled. "I know you were only trying to help."

The jeep paused again, servos fidgeting on Vortex's armoured arm. "You know how much I was hurt." A snarl rattled from Vortex. "And I know how much you were hurt. Back then. And…and I can only guess how much it affected the two of you." Swindle paused, purple optics cast down, not daring to look Vortex in the optics. "I think that's why Ons favors you. He doesn't mean to, I think, he just does, because of your…history. And you mean a lot to him."

Vortex snarled again, deep and animalistic, and the next thing Swindle knew was that he was flying backwards, a clawed servo squeezing at his throat as he was slammed into the wall. All the air left his vents in a violent huff, leaving Swindle gasping, vents heaving.

A grey forearm pressed against Swindle's chest as he was hoisted off the ground, pedes kicking helplessly at air, barley hitting Vortex's thighs. A flat palm slammed into the wall beside Swindle's helm, causing the other to cry out in fear; his fear flaring bright and hot through the gestalt link before the jeep could stop it.

On the other end of the bond, Swindle could feel the other three stirring, waking as his distress filled the gestalt bond. Narrowing the connection with the other three, Swindle fought to keep his fear from them. Onslaught or Blast Off charging through the door to beat the slag out of Vortex was the last thing Swindle needed, and would only drive a wedge further between the interrogator and the rest of the gestalt.

"Vortex, wait." Swindle wheezed as the forearm was pressed harder to his throat, causing his vents to catch and struggle.

"You think you know what pain is!" Vortex sneered, his vents hot and angry. "You had one bad experience and you think you're some kind of fragging expert!"

Swindle's helm thrashed no, his struggling weakening in Vortex's hold. "No, no I don't." the jeep softly wheezed.

Vortex sneered. "Of course you don't you coward! So don't you _dare_ try to think you know what we went through! Don't you _dare_ to assume you know Onslaught." Since he apparently didn't either.

Swindle's courage spiked, his servos gripping at Vortex's arm. "Then if you're such an expert, prove it! _You _stop being such a coward and open the bond."

For just a brief moment, Vortex paused, stalling as he stared into the wide purple optics that belonged to Swindle. Then he grinned behind his battle mask, cold and dark. "You want to know what it feels like? You really want me to drop the blocks?" the words were cold and cutting, not the idle threat Swindle thought them to be. "Then let's see how tough you really are there _Swin_."

Swindle was dropped to his pede's and pinned to the wall by his shoulders, Vortex's EM flaring aggressively against him, like many servos pawing at his plating. Vortex chuckled, and the jeep had no doubt in his mind that the manic was grinning behind that mask of his. Carefully placing a block between himself and the other three members of the gestalt, Swindle took a deep vent and waited. Whatever Vortex was going to show him, was for him alone and the other three didn't need to see or feel it either.

Then Vortex dropped the block.

Unlike the others, there was no gentle introduction, no soft comfort. Just one moment the block was up, hard and heavy between them and the next, Vortex was there, a big ball of dark energy and emotional pain.

Swindle cried out as blackness spread through his spark, cold and cruel with the untameable _need_ to do something bad, to hurt someone else, filled every fibre of his being. There was a desire to see blood energon spread like a river from bodies, the thought suddenly making Swindle very giddy, leaving him with a feeling that he would have done anything to see it. Pushing against the thought, Swindle tried forcing Vortex back out; the desire made the jeep feel sick to his stomach, nauseous and weak, like Omega Supreme had dropped kicked him like a small child's toy.

Vision fading out to nothing but a dim haze, it sounded like he was flying, that the wind was roaring in his audials, drowning out his static laced scream as his vocaliser began to give out. Everything suddenly hurt; his joints ached, his processor felt like it was pounding its way out of his helm, his plating burned from the intensity that was Vortex.

Just when Swindle didn't think it could possibly get any worse, just when he thought everything had hit its peak; when the pain intensified and he couldn't see nor hear anything, and Swindle honestly thought he was going to die, then the memories came.

Whether it was intentional or not, Swindle could not be sure because of how angry Vortex was. He could only hope that the 'copter hadn't meant to push memories of his sparkling-hood on him, for him to see and experience himself. Swindle could only hope that the pain he felt was unintentional.

But Vortex was so angry at him, felt so betrayed by Onslaught, it was hard to say if it was accidental or not.

Suddenly Swindle felt small, smaller than he was now and knew with all his spark what it felt like to have rotors. And he felt, all over again, the sensation of being pressed face first into a solid surface, his pede's kicked wide and having a thick girth pressed into his unwilling frame. He felt the burning agony that Vortex had lived through in a confused, bitter haze.

Swindle gasped and struggled, pushing into and against Vortex through the bond, trying to get the other to back off, to calm down. Pleaded with the other to stop.

Vortex laughed, cold and angry. "You wanted to know what it felt like to be me. You wanted me to drop the blocks." The interrogator mocked as he forced more dark feelings, and darker memories through the bond, forcing Swindle to endure.

The jeep gasped, arching and thrashing in his gestalt mate's hold as flashes of memory sped through his processor. Fast and flaring, like laser fire, Swindle witnessed Vortex at his lowest points. Watched and felt as time and again he was forced to submit to the whims of others, and learnt what it felt like to be rendered mute, to not have a say when Vortex's vocaliser was disabled by his owners. Then he felt the exact moment hope died within Vortex, the 'copter honestly believing he would never have anything more than he had at that moment. And he finally understood what it was like to believe that this treatment was normal.

Suddenly hope flared hot and bright through Swindle's frame, so at odds with the dark pain just moments ago, that Swindle nearly purged his tanks while his processor spun. Pleasure prickled at every sensor and every node, and once again the jeep was sure this memory was sent to him by accident.

The agony was suddenly gone, gentle pleasure licking at his sensor net in its place, and the memory of Onslaught's unmasked, handsome young face stared down at him in confusion. _Blue_ optics bore down at him, Onslaught's helm canted as he asked if he was alright…if Vortex was alright.

Anger and jealousy flared at the memory, leaving Swindle wondering if Vortex was witnessing them to, feeling them all over again as though they were new. It left Swindle questioning if even Vortex was in control of the memories that suddenly appeared at the forefront of their linked processors.

The pleasure which had momentarily licked through his body, waned back to pain, a dull ache that wouldn't go away accompanying the bitter betrayal that Vortex felt. The spark deep hurt which would have dropped Swindle to his knees had Vortex not been holding him up, ripped through the smaller Combaticon.

Another memory, softer, lighter and far clearer than the others broke through the haze of pain and hurt. Swindle found himself looking back up at the younger face of Onslaught as they lay on their sides, his commander's spike still gently nestled inside what was actually Vortex's frame, the gentle sparks of pleasure that came from his valve causing the sensation of rotors to quiver at his back.

Onslaught's large servos gently petted and cupped, soothing away any damage done, any hurt. When Onslaught spoke his voice was distorted, sounded far away. "Are you alright Vortex?"

Swindle watched through Vortex's optics, felt himself answer, hazy and sleepy. "Yeah."

"Do you see the difference?" _Memory_ Onslaught asked, gently cupping a cheek.

Confusion spread through Vortex. "Not really. I mean, sure it didn't hurt. But it was still interfacing." A shoulder shrugged, Vortex's own servos exploring Onslaught's body. "In the end it's still interfacing. It's not really different."

Onslaught sighed again, tipping Vortex's face back up to him, gently pressing his lips to the 'copter's. When he pulled back, the Combaticon commander opened his mouth to say something else, but it was lost to Swindle as Vortex suddenly slammed the bond shut, abruptly cutting himself off from his gestalt mate as quickly and cruelly as possible.

Suddenly all alone, feeling empty, Swindle gasped, reaching out to his Vortex along the bonds that linked them together. A soft keen brushed past Swindle's lips when he was met with nothing but the cold, hard block again from Vortex.

The Interrogator silently stepped away, releasing Swindle's shoulders, letting clawed servos fall to his sides. Weak and emotionally exhausted, Swindle's legs gave out from under him and slowly sinking down to his aft, the jeep lay against the wall at his back, panting as he stared up in shock at his gestalt mate.

Vortex stood before him, knees shaking as he forced himself to stay standing, his fans screaming in effort to cool his overheated frame. Swindle heard the 'copter pant, and knew distantly that Vortex was just as affected by reliving his earlier years in a matter of minutes. He now also felt how angry Vortex was at Onslaught, how he felt betrayed by the commander.

Swallowing hard, Swindle forced himself to look up, forcing the words from his vocaliser as his helm spun. "Vor…tex. Want you to…open." The jeep swallowed again as the nauseous feeling from the flaring emotions that belonged to Vortex, curdled his tanks.

The heliformer managed an indignant snort but somehow managed to keep his voice steady, despite how his frame trembled from the backlash of emotions. "You don't want me in your bond. You can't handle me in your bond. You're pathetic Swindle, the whole lot of you are. I don't need you."

Vortex turned to walk away, almost believed the lie himself. In truth the interrogator did need his gestalt mates, and the bonds demanded connection, required both emotional and social interaction. What he wouldn't do for a little bit of physical affection, a little touch, that's all he would need to calm down a little, allowing to take control of his processor again.

It wasn't him though, not really. He wasn't kind, nor was he what humans would call cuddly. That part of him died long ago. It was only the bond and coding that was forced on him that called out for the attachment; it was only the bond that wanted him to surrender his uniqueness, his personality in order to be part of a combined unit. To be a Combaticon in the whole sense of the word.

To not just be a member of the team, but to be part of the team. Primus, did he ever want to be part of the team, to feel the other four on the other side of the block. To feel their joys, fears, happiness, sadness as though it were his own. To be a _Combaticon_, to be part of the set.

Vortex forced it all away. He didn't need them. He may want them, but he doubted even that was real, doubted that the jumbled emotions he had towards Onslaught were real either. Besides, they wouldn't want him either, so frag it. Give them what they all really wanted.

Stealing himself, Vortex gritted his denta and forced himself to walk away, fighting the need to drop to his knees and gather Swindle close to him to just hold him against his chest. It was only the combiner programing, nothing more.

He wanted to open the bond, slowly, gently and relish in the soft feelings they could provide him.

But Vortex forced himself to take another step away, his legs unstable like a new born fawn. Anxiety spiked through him, demanding to go back to Swindle, curl up next to him and recharge. It was only coding, Vortex told himself, only coding that didn't mean anything.

He _didn't_ need them.

Forcing himself to take another step, Vortex's frame shook, his spark clenching painfully in his chest, begging, pleading to turn back; to open the gestalt bond, be part of the unit. Vortex ignored it, tried to take another step.

Swindle gasped, dismay flared through him as he watched Vortex stumble away. Swallowing hard, the jeep forced himself to his knees and with a sloppy lunge, grasped the 'copters wrist with both servos, his fore helm pressing into Vortex's forearm.

"Don't go." Swindle rasped, his optics slipping off line. "Please Vortex. We need you."

The hold was light, easy to break, but it felt like a heavy chain attaching him to the small jeep. The bond prickling in his spark, stuck to him like a thick gunk that he would never scrape off.

"You're right," Swindle gasped again, engine hitching, "I'm not strong like you. I would have never survived that. But we still need you Vortex. I need you. I need you because you're stronger than me, you're strong enough to protect our team, and I can't do what you do. None of us can."

The jeep's voice wavered and his servos trembled as he clung to his gestalt mate, Vortex's helm dipped down, shoulders hunched as he listened to Swindle's desperate plea. "And I know we don't say it, but we do need you."

Knees began to weaken as Swindle's words took their toll on him. The small spot where Swindle held him, burned hot with the soft touch, soothing the rolling emotions in ways that only a gestalt mate could. The only thing Vortex had wanted, the soft touch of a gestalt mate, the small petting affection, he had gotten as Swindle gently held on to him. Clung to him desperately, afraid to be left alone again.

Vortex was sick of being alone too. He wanted his gestalt. Coding be damned, he wanted them so badly.

"Don't leave me alone again. Please Vortex, stay. I need you. Please." Swindle whispered roughly, exhaustion flaring in his EM field, pushing with all his diminishing strength against the block Vortex placed between them.

Confusion flickered though the 'copters EM field. Confusion mixed with annoyance and a dwindling hate; the interrogator still had so much anger and hatred towards Swindle for what he had done to him, to the others. Yet here was Swindle, as broken as the rest of them, the weakest link of them all. The only one who needed constant protection and looking after…and they had failed him. The team was meant to protect each other above all others, and they let him down when he needed them the most.

If only Vortex had answered the comm. sooner, had gotten to the cargo bay faster, maybe Swindle could have been spared the pain he endured.

For the first time in his long life, guilt and a special kind of failure flashed bright and hot through Vortex. He had let Swindle down; it might as well have been his fault the jeep had been hurt. He should have _been_ there!

But, Vortex argued with himself, still very hyper aware that Swindle still clung to him and how his smaller engine hitched in distress, hadn't the jeep let him down? Let them all down when he dismantled them and sold their parts? Did that make them even then? Their pain in exchange for his?

The thoughts made Vortex's processor swim, he really was terrible at these sort of things. How was he supposed know what was right and wrong?

If they were even, fine then. He'd leave it at that.

Taking a deep intake of air, Vortex tried to gently tug his arm from Swindle's tight hold, yet the jeep wouldn't relent. Instead he clung to the grey plates just a little tighter, a soft whine bubbling from his chest. "Please don't leave me Vortex."

The voice was so pitiful, the servos on his arm trembling so badly they rattled both of their plates, that something in Vortex's dark spark cracked. The combiner program called to him stronger than ever now, the gestalt bond demanding he do something to comfort his gestalt mate, to make this better.

Fear bubbled up in place of anger and it was all too overwhelming for Vortex to handle, he didn't know how to deal with this either. It was easy to fall into the blood lust possessive need to protect Swindle, to exact revenge on the mech that had dared hurt him, and tear him limb from limb. But to actually help Swindle get over his pain, to stay like Swindle begged of him, was a whole new ball game, one in which Vortex didn't know the rules to.

"Please Vortex. Don't leave me alone." The voice was so quiet, so soft the 'copter nearly missed. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

It was all too much, too overwhelming. Vortex suddenly felt hot and flustered, far out of his element. His knees hit the ground hard before he even was aware of sinking down, leaning back to almost touch Swindle.

Shuddering, Swindle shuffled forward to lean against Vortex's grey arm, clinging to him with all his worth. Physically shaking, confused as to why he was even reacting this way, Vortex eased an arm around the jeeps yellow shoulders, slinking back so they sat against the grey wall. The floor cold and dirty, but neither of them seemed to care. Not when they were pressed up against each other, warm frames curling into each other.

It was awkward, at first, but the combiner programme smoothed out the feelings as their energies synchronised, and their sparks fell in harmony with each other; the backlash of Vortex's conflicting emotions still running rampant through their systems.

But despite the lingering dark feelings, Swindle still leaned into his gestalt mate, the words coming a little stronger now. "Tex, we want you in the bond. We need you. Please drop the block?"

Vortex hesitated, arm still slung around Swindle in a half hug. Swallowing hard, the 'copter tried to talk sense into his gestalt mate. "Swin. I can't."

The jeep shook his helm no, crawling into Vortex's lap; perhaps the most dangerous place for the smaller Combaticon to be, but Swindle had come too far to give up now. Besides, who knew when Vortex would be this open again, this docile? Likely never.

This was Swindle's only shot.

Pushing lightly, yet still insistently against the blocks, Swindle curled against Vortex's chest. The larger Combaticon gasped softly, not sure what to do with himself, and awkwardly pressed himself flat against the wall, arms at his side.

"You're important to us to. Don't block us out anymore."

It was stupid, and it was pathetic. It made Vortex feel small and weak, but Primus be damned, he couldn't stop it from happening.

The block that separated him from his team dropped slowly, and Swindle could feel the 'copters hesitation, his anxiety that he could still be rejected, forgotten by his team.

So Swindle went to him first, pushed _teammate/gestalt/safe _trilling down the bonds, causing Vortex to shudder. "I know I'm not any good at this." The interrogator tried, but failed to have his usual cocky attitude, "But I thought I was supposed to be doing that."

Swindle shrugged, curling tighter into Vortex's warm frame, his arms banding around the 'copter's narrow waist as he wished Vortex would hold him back. The thought must have fumbled its way down the shaky bonds, for as soon as the jeep thought it, Vortex pulled his servos from where they were plastered against the wall, and awkwardly, slowly, as though Swindle were covered in a dangerous contaminate, Vortex wrapped his arms around the con-mech, drawing him even closer to his plating.

Humming softly, Swindle settled against grey chest plates, relishing in the feel of Vortex pressed up against him, the bond finally open wide, buzzing with the feeling of wholeness. Everything was as it should be, as Swindle dropped the blocks to the other three, basking as the combiner program sung happily as all five sides were finally open.

Even Vortex felt it as he shuddered, sighing heavily as his limbs loosened a little, dropping the tension he carried around with him. Peeking for the first time into Swindle's side of the bond, the heliformer felt the other's fear, felt the other's pain, as if it were his own.

It called to the darkness in Vortex's spark, called to the pain and the rotary was forced to push it back down, away, in an effort to protect his gestalt. Swindle felt the other's struggle, and for once was able to do something about it.

Pulsing encouragement and support, as well as affection down the bonds, helping Vortex lock his demons away for another time, Swindle muttered into a grey shoulder. "I told you, you could do it."

Vortex shrugged, nuzzling into the top of Swindle's helm in a manner that was clearly _not_ cuddling. "Shut up Swindle."

The 'copter's voice had lost its edge, and to Swindle he just sounded exhausted; completely wiped out, physically, mentally and emotionally. "Get some recharge Tex. We'll figure out the rest later." Swindle mumbled, his own purple optics slipping offline.

The smaller Combaticon felt a moment of hesitation from the heliformer , which was quickly followed by guilt and _I'm sorry! I'mSorryI'mSorryI'mSorry! _

The fact that Vortex could feel guilt, could feel sorry, surprised Swindle, causing him to gasp and shudder, to curl a little tighter into the small ball he was currently in. Although Vortex had not actually apologised, not out loud, the fact that he felt it was enough. "I should've been there. I should've come sooner." He mumbled, sounding drowsy.

Shaking his helm, Swindle fought off his recharge protocols a little more. "Wasn't your fault."

"Could've done something."

Again, Swindle shook his helm. "Still not your fault. Only Astrotrain is to blame."

A small amount of pride burst through Swindle at the fact that he could say Astrotrain's name without fear, without relapsing back into a flashback. Yet the pride was suddenly blotted out by a swell of black anger, burning hot with thoughts of all the terrible things Vortex was going to do to him, as soon as the time was right.

It caused Swindle to shudder, feeling small and terrified in the face of Vortex's anger, his blood lust. The jeep felt the other's need for violence, his anticipation that he would soon get to slaughter the other, making him pay for what he had done.

Fear suddenly froze Swindle's lines and he softly whimpered, clinging to Vortex as rage washed through him, burning his spark. The jeep hadn't thought it possible to hate as deeply as the rotary could, nor with such intensity.

However, Swindle didn't push Vortex away, couldn't push him away, not when they had just opened the bonds. Instead the smaller Combaticon rode out the feelings, took the anger, the hatred and exchanged it with a strained calmness, acceptance.

In the end, no matter what else happened they had to accept each other, including all their quirks and inner conflict. They were gestalt now, that would never change and it was time to stop fighting it. That much Swindle understood now.

The rage drained from Vortex as quickly as it filled him, leaving them both once again panting and shaking, clinging to each other desperately, anchoring themselves to one another. Comfort slipped from Swindle to the 'copter, filling the bond with the unusual soft feeling, replacing the hatred they both shared for Astrotrain.

"I'm going to kill him. I promise Swindle, I'm going to kill him one day." Vortex rasped as he clung to Swindle, wrapping himself around the jeep's smaller frame as unfamiliar emotions swamped his spark.

Nodding against the grey shoulder, the jeep settled a little further into Vortex's strong hold, feeling well protected, pressed against his gestalt mate. The feeling of wholeness passed between them, they finally felt connected, and it felt right.

"I know you will Vortex. I know you will." Swindle said softly, not able to resist sending _comfort/team/affection_ through the shaky bond, and was thrilled when Vortex returned the feelings. What Vortex sent back to Swindle was not nearly as strong as what the jeep sent him, but it was a start.

Settling against the interrogator's chest, Swindle allowed his optics to slip off line, finally falling into a deep recharge, too exhausted to fight it any more.

Vortex allowed Swindle to fall limp in his arms, drawing the relaxed frame closer to his chest, cradling the jeep against his larger form. His hurt and annoyance towards Onslaught was still there, right at the surface of Vortex's spark, but he would deal with Onslaught later, as right now Vortex wanted nothing more than to curl tighter around Swindle and follow him into recharge.

Optics also slipping offline, Vortex's systems shut down one by one into stand by, and for the first time since Swindle was attacked, Vortex was able to recharge peacefully, the nightmares kept at bay by the open bond and the frame pressed against his own.

()()()

Vortex was woken by a larger frame sitting down next to him, leaning against the wall beside him, the plating from an arm rubbing against his own. The 'copters systems started to slowly boot up when a large servo gently touched his shoulder, helping Vortex rise from his recharge mused state.

Lifting his helm, frame stiff from leaning over Swindle during his recharge cycle, Vortex looked up into Onslaught's yellow visor. Anger flooded the bond, causing Onslaught to sigh and withdraw his servo, pulling it back to his own lap.

Vortex curled a little tighter around Swindle's still form, the bond humming as he quietly recharged, still pressed against the 'copters larger frame, arms still wrapped around his middle. Glaring up at the larger mech, the 'copter curled around Swindle like a snake, a near snarl on his lips.

"Go away." Vortex rasped, shuffling as much as he could away from Onslaught.

The commander sighed, reaching out along the freshly opened bond, gently sending emotion to his interrogator, trying to reach out to the other. Vortex pulled away with a hiss. "Don't!" He warned. "Just don't!"

Onslaught looking away from his gestalt mates, regret panging through him. The Combaticon commander dropped his battle mask and tucked his visor away in subspace so he could scrub at his face. "Vortex." Onslaught tried.

"You chose them over me." He hissed. "You never wanted to drop the block before, why bother with it now?"

The commander sighed heavily, rubbing at his red optics with his palms. "I chose the gestalt mate that needed me the most Vortex. I chose Swindle because he was suffering and he needed someone, and I was there." He could feel Vortex's optics on him. "I dropped the bonds because we were ready this time. Not some scared near new forms with new bodies who didn't know what was going on. I never chose them over you."

Vortex glared harder. "Liar!"

"And what would you have me do!?" Onslaught hissed back, true anger rising, flaring through the bonds.

"Open the bonds with _me_!" Vortex hissed back, hurt and anger warring for dominance in his spark.

"You weren't ready! _I_ wasn't ready!" Onslaught snapped, voice rising.

Vortex sat a little taller, EM flaring angrily. "I fragging hate you. It's your fault we're in this mess! Your fault we got caught, and your fault we aren't connected like we should be! All because _you_ weren't ready!" The 'copter hissed, baring his denta behind his mask. "I hate you!"

Swindle groaned in Vortex's arms, gently burying his face into his gestalt mate's neck, momentarily drawing the optics of both mechs to him, forcing them to calm down or wake their recharging team mate.

Hurt suddenly bounced through Vortex's spark, like a bullet trapped behind his chest plates, moments before Onslaught snapped his side of the bond shut. A whine nearly burst from Vortex at the loss of connection, but he managed to bite it back as Onslaught looked away, jaw working.

Vortex could feel his commander's EM flaring and rippling, an emotional torrent that not even Onslaught could deal with. "I didn't…I couldn't have…I mean." Onslaught's head drooped as he looked further away, shoulders hunching uncharacteristically.

Onslaught wasn't needy, didn't like the connection at the best of times, but the combiner protocols wreaked havoc over even _his_ emotions.

His commander wasn't weak like this, it was the only reason Vortex had followed him to the Pit and back; Onslaught was always the strong one who looked after everyone else. Stupid words shouldn't be able to hurt the commander, he was better than that. Stronger. Wasn't he?

Vortex perked up, looking at his commander more intently, subconsciously sliding closer, Swindle's words from the night before ringing in his audios. _"I think that's why Ons favors you. He doesn't mean to, I think. He just does, because of your…history. And you mean a lot to him."_

Could that be true? Could Onslaught really favor him above all the others? Did he really have that kind of power over his commander, that he could hurt him with something as pathetic as words?

Vortex's glee at the thought, his amusement was short lived as the gestalt link reared its ugly head, making him feel things he didn't know he actually could. The fact was, he had _hurt Onslaught_. The only mech that had ever cared for him, the only mech that had ever thought him worthy of protection, the only one who thought him more than just a play thing or a soldier.

Huffing an annoyed sigh, Vortex took a page from Swindle's book and he stood up briefly, Swindle held in his arms, before plonking back down on top of Onslaught's lap, startling the commander. Withdrawing his own mask and visor, Vortex glared at the larger Decepticon, daring him to tell him to move before planting a soft kiss on his commander's lips.

Just as quickly, Vortex pulled away, settling down on Onslaught's legs, still prickly and annoyed.

The icy block came down slowly, Onslaught's half of the bond reaching out slowly, tentatively, back to his gestalt.

Blowing a vent of air, Vortex returned the soft affection that Onslaught sent him, not sure if it was warranted or wanted, before he settled against is commander, pinning Swindle between their larger frames.

Onslaught responded, echoing the affection back while his arms banded around the 'copter.

"I didn't mean that." Vortex mumbled. "I don't hate you."

Onslaught shrugged, tugging the rotary closer. "I know."

Affection passed back and forth between them, spreading outward to the others in the gestalt, awkwardly, hesitantly.

Amusement flared through Vortex. "So now that the bond is open and we're all cuddly now."

"Apparently cuddly." Onslaught sighed, drawing Vortex closer.

"Does this mean I can cuddle you at meetings now?"

Alarmed, Onslaught straightened up. "What? No!"

"Oh! Or! Or could we frag in public places!"

"Vortex!"

"Come on Ons! How hot would that be?"

Onslaught sighed, suddenly tired, the last few weeks of fluctuating emotions catching up with him. "Vortex, we cannot frag all over the base. This base or the _Nemesis_. And we certainly cannot frag in public places."

The 'copters face tipped up, red optics bright with excitement and joy rippling through the bond to the others. "But just think! How hot would it be to bend me over Megaton's war table and take advantage of your helpless subordinate?"

Onslaught's mouth went dry and his servos twitched at the thought. The larger Combaticon tried, desperately to keep his lust from the gestalt bond, and failed miserably.

Vortex grinned back up at his commander before settling back down. "Come on Ons, It'll be fun." He rubbed his aft into Onslaught's thighs just to prove his point. "We'd only be in trouble if we were caught."

Swallowing hard, Onslaught managed to keep his voice flat. "Vortex, we cannot allow ourselves to appear weak in front of others. We cannot act as though something is amiss."

Vortex pondered his commander's words for a brief moment. "But it would only be you and me in the war room."

Onslaught sighed, unable to hide the amusement in the bond; it was really something he was going to have to work on. Vortex pushed lust and amusement back at his commander, thrilled when it was returned, a fair amount of affection with it.

"I'm serious Vortex. No unnecessary touching outside of the base." Onslaught ordered as he tugged the 'copter and jeep closer to his larger frame.

Vortex chuckled, allowing himself to be held as he in turn, held Swindle, the gestalt bond open and humming with completeness, of oneness. A safety net they all now had, a support system that should have been there since day one.

Reinitiating his recharge protocols, Vortex began to drift back to recharge, allowing himself to be held by the only mech he had ever come close to loving while he held one of the few mechs he cared about. Chuckling again, Vortex mumbled into Onslaught's chest. "It'd be real fun. It'd be a thrill."

"Go back into recharge." Onslaught ordered lightly.

"Or maybe," Vortex drawled, slipping deeper into his protocols. "We can frag right on Megaton's throne."

Onslaught sighed, fighting once again to keep his lust from his field and the bond. "Vortex!"

The 'copter laughed one last time, his words sleepy. "He'd never know Ons. It'd be our little secret."

Then Vortex slipped into recharge, pressing Swindle against Onslaught's belly, cocooning the jeep between their frames. Safety, affection and oneness echoed through the open bond and Onslaught initiated recharge himself, wrapped in warmth as his larger frame surrounded his smaller team mates.

Soon Astrotrain would pay for what he had done to Swindle. Soon Onslaught would release the leash he had on Vortex, and let the crazy 'copter take all of his rage, and his dark intent out on the triple changer. Oh how he looked forward to that.

The thought made Onslaught grin as he fell into recharge, affection pulsing through the bond, finally wide and open. Nuzzling into Vortex's helm, Onslaught slumped over them, succumbing to his protocols.


End file.
